Only If His Eyes Are Blue
by Kerrys2Boys
Summary: Starsky is highly marketable and it puts him in a dangerous situation so close on the heels of his abduction by Simon Marcus.
1. Chapter 1

**ONLY IF HIS EYES ARE BLUE**

**Prologue**

* * *

**This is a joint effort between myself and Tabs...she prefers to remain anonymous. Maybe it's because of what she wants to do to Starsky? It's not me who keeps hurting him, that's for sure...**

**Thanks also to my wonderful muse Brook.**

**Prologue to the story only...**

**Here we go again...**

* * *

"I'm telling you we'll never get as good a match to the profile."

"What are you talking about? It's way off the profile!"

"Only the demographics and the social background. The physical attributes are probably the best we have come across since we've been trawling. In fact I'd say they are one hundred per cent. Enough to make the boss cream his pants."

"It's too risky, leaves us wide open. I say we drop it and move on to a safer take."

"But this one will get us top dollars. We just have to work harder at covering our bases and put a bit more prep into the take – work smart, keep our heads, think it all through and leave no trails. It could take us weeks to find another even close to this and we'd never get one of this quality no matter how hard we looked. "

"Still ….. I get a bad feeling about this one. The rest so far have been easier, a lot easier. No one even knows they've gone. Nobodies and Nothings of the world. You know as well as I do this one is far from like the rest. In the week we've been watching him have you seen that blond even leave his side once? He's freaking tied to his hip."

"Yes but every single one of those Nobodies didn't have the characteristics of this one. Look at him for Christ Sake ! It's almost as though he is a walking, breathing , living profile of the specified product. He's the buyer's fantasy come to life. And he has the deciding factor….don't even need these binoculars to see that. I tell you they are radiating enough from this distance."

She laughed a little now, enjoying the exaggeration of her voyeuristic appraisal.

The other one threw her a wry look.

"Yeah sure you can….from this distance, I don't think so. But you're right. In those photos you developed last night they were pretty damn obvious. Very vivid, the perfect colour."

"See – I am right. Always right. Girl we have ourselves a catch. Every physical box is ticked and most importantly you know that he aces the deciding feature…."

"Yeah, yeah….you've made your point. " _But only if his eyes are blue"_….. What is it with that guy that he needs to have that damn factor? Can't he just make them wear a pair of coloured contacts for Christ Sake? We've shown him so many potentials and always he rejects them on that single basis only."

"You heard the feedback we got about the first lot of photos we sent him. There was absolutely no doubt he wanted him."

"Sure he did...but he doesn't have to run the gauntlet like we'll have to so that we can bring him in. I don't even know how we'll get a clear opportunity to take him with his partner around him ninety per cent of the time. And they're cops for God's Sake!"

The risks are ours and we can handle them. So the risks are a little higher than normal - ok a lot higher - but think of the price he'll get us...we'll sting the buyer for more given the risk factor involved and the quality of the merchandise. Are we agreed then? We have a two-day window before the buyer starts getting restless – we haven't scored in over three weeks. Let's not let this one get away."

A moment passed where the other woman chewed on her heavily painted lower lip, her long red nails tapping thoughtfully on the steering wheel. Hesitancy left her face and was replaced by light malice. It's touch tipped her mouth and glinted in her sharp eyes as she turned in her car seat and laid the binoculars down.

"Agreed. Come on then Girl. We've got work to do and money to make. There's one very sexy, blue-eyed man out there just waiting for us to find him a new home."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	2. Chapter 2

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

It's easy money. Well relatively speaking (if you're prepared to do certain "activities" that the majority of people would not entertain doing), it pays. And I can't complain. I'm one of those people.

For the most part its money for jam. The watching and the waiting in particular I almost enjoy, to a point, though it depends on how interesting my targets are. That, in itself, can be hit and miss.

Since I've been working with this little "outfit", I've been tasked with quite a few surveillance jobs, some lasting up to 5 hours a day. Mostly non-events. And there's my money for jam. The last three targets we "procured" were hardly worthy of being trailed. Two hours tops could have told anyone, as it did me, that they were nobodies. Faceless, nameless, unattached nobodies. You could walk past them in any street, in any city and not know they were there. Not worthy of my time, nor anyone else's. Hard to record on something that is nothing.

Poor bastards. Losers. Dropouts. No longer part of mainstream society, no longer belonging to anyone or anything…what the hell was I meant to be watching in them anyway? Christ would only know. But I just do what I get told to do and take the cash flow.

Couldn't even use a car to stake them out – watching and following those poor scum required real leg work and I'm talking literally here not in the figurative sense. Tracking and monitoring them had to be done on foot as ninety per cent of their lives were being played out in filthy narrow backstreet alleys or dingy, smoke-filled, cockroach infested, stinking bars. A waste of my shoe leather. But I got paid, nevertheless.

These Nothings of society never moved too far in their daily lives, not any distance that require a set of wheels to follow them anyway. Their insignificant lives were carried out in small featureless places among other bland faces that seemed barely to notice their existence. It was a matter of trailing behind them in the shadows, gagging at the putrid scents that infiltrated their lifestyles and turning away in disgust at the sordid evidence of their bottom dwelling existences.

By the time the decision was made to grab them, it was abundantly clear that their erasure from their social niche would hardly be noticed, if in fact at all. These were people that just didn't matter. They had become a blight on society in every way. Perhaps I had even fooled myself that I was almost providing a community service by ridding the streets of another one of these human leeches who suckled on welfare teats and added another layer to the thick fabric of urban corruption.

And as for them? After they were taken? Well, at least now they had somewhere to call home, food in their bellies and clean bodies and hair for the first time in years. At least they ended up belonging somewhere or at least to someone.

I nolonger allow myself to analyse my rationalization of what I do for a job. If I do, I know the thin veneer of my self righteousness will crack wide open.

So when my employer, the boss lady, handed me the first takes of my latest 'job', I displayed an emotion that I have never displayed to her before. Emptying out the meager contents of a plain, brown envelope, I openly gasped in incredulous and disbelieving shock.

This "one" was not like the recent ones and even considering that one or two of the others had some modicum of belonging to a flimsy social network, this one was way out on a limb as being unique.

I thumbed through the first views of the target which had been captured on film probably a day or two earlier and looked up at her with what I knew was skepticism.

"You want me to track this guy? You honestly think we should take him?"

"Why else would I be giving you the photos? What are you dumb as well as blind? Of course he's the new target. You take five hours today and we'll share the surveillance over the next three days. I won't be putting my face out there very much as I'll be the one to do the grift if we go ahead."

"But look at him."

"I don't need to look at him. I've seen him up close - real close. Are you questioning me? I don't pay you to think, let alone question me. I pay you to do what I tell you. Is that clear?"

"Sure. Ok. But – it's already easy to tell he ain't nothin' like the others. Nothin' at all."

"And that is why he will be worth more to us…he's better than the others, closer to the profile than anything else we have taken or seen. Just because he's clean and is a somebody doesn't detract from that. Anyway what are you bitching about? This job will get you out of the ghettos and bohemian districts that you so abhor and back into the mainstream walk of the city. I thought you'd appreciate a change from slinking around alleyways and drop in soup kitchens. Now shut up and go and get me the information I need."

So here I am day two and already my head is bursting at the seams with all the reasons why this target is all wrong for us. In fact, half way through my first shift yesterday; I had the feeling, that gut swirling feeling you get when something is terribly wrong.

That this one was not for us and should not be attempted.

This one should not be touched, let alone taken.

So today, again I'm sitting parked outside the Metro precinct garage in a different car to the one I had yesterday. I'm already feeling agitated as I push my fake pair of reading glasses up my nose and pull down my cap just a bit further. I know what the agitation is about. It is my gut talking to me – telling me that this is not a good move. The move I am planning to make, or that others are planning for me to make. The feeling of churning in my sensitive gut is only intensifying.

I don't need to look down at the snaps I developed in our small lab last night, nor review the jotted down notes she makes me keep on the surveillance jobs. I need nothing to remind me, or to reinforce in me that this target is bad news.

Let's not start with the number one reason. A very obvious clue being that I'm parked outside a freaking police station.

He's a cop. Not just a rookie or a patrol beat officer – no he's a Sergeant, A Detective Sergeant in Homicide. That, in itself, should be an alarming deterrent. Fucking alarming. But in fact that is not the main factor in my vetoing this one as a viable "product" for our lucrative business.

No, the main factor we should not touch this guy is simple.

Real simple.

He is a somebody.

He belongs.

He fits right into a perfectly cut out slot where he snaps in with precision. A jigsaw, vibrant with life and action, mood and tempo. There are so many pieces to the overall image – his work role, his neighborhood that seems to be aware of him, his work associates, a small tight, social niche down at some inner city bar run by some tall skinny black dude who seems to positively dote on him, a host of socially acceptable friends and some undesirable street friends and contacts.

But above all there is one other central piece next to his on his jigsaw board of life and he snaps seamlessly into alignment with it. The puzzle piece of his partner.

Those two pieces fit together like they were first made as one and then carefully divided to attain a degree of individuality when apart and yet meld into one piece when they are put side by side.

And they are nothing alike.

But so very much as one.

So this man, this assignment I have been given – he breaks all the rules that I have in my own head on a moral and ethical level. For sure he does. And ok, I am no saint so there is another level here for me and its a purely selfish and fear based level. But hell, it speaks to me loud and clear and reminds me that I don't want to die too young.

And from what I have learned in less than two short days is that I would do well to listen to my swirling gut and not to the woman who has come to dictate much of my life in the past six months.

I'd returned here to the station at around four in the afternoon, knowing that if procedure was followed, they would be leaving, as they had the day before, at around five. Procedure is good. Procedure can be noted and used to my advantage.

Keeping my eyes on the poor excuse for a car that was the possession of the other one, the blonde's, I wait and ponder.

My mind runs back over the start of the surveillance yesterday morning. It seemed longer back than that – but when emotions are brought into sharp focus, a short time span can seem a shitload longer than less than two days.

Dawn had passed but the morning sun was still weak. I was staked out with my coffee and Danish right on the time that I had set for myself to be outside his place. The red and white flashy, souped up version of a Torino that she had described to me was still parked in the driveway, so it was not as if I had to worry that he'd taken off at some Godforsaken hour.

I could well do without her wrath if I had missed him on the first surveillance shift.

I watched a brown beaten up heap pull up outside his place not too long after I'd settled in.

Lucky I had gotten there on time, as I would have missed him.

A tall, athletic blond guy jumped with agility out of the driver's seat, slammed a rattling door and bent quickly to retrieve the early morning paper from the drive, before running up the side steps of the apartment. His apartment. Starsky's. Yeah, David Starsky – that was the name I'd been given on the job notes and the blond was Hutchinson. Kenneth Hutchinson. His partner.

I waited over thirty minutes for them to come out so it was more than just a pick up on the way through to work. The blond had spent some considerable time in the other's place.

As soon as I saw them come out together I knew straight away that these guys were more than just work partners, more than just cops assigned as partners to each other, and sharing more than just the sort of closeness that I know cops share with each other. There was an instantly recognizable affinity with each other, a well-worn familiarity and ease between the two physically different men. Had they not been so dramatically different in appearance I might even have mistaken them for brothers such was their fluid body language and intrusion into each other's personal space.

As they both stood in the open doorway, obviously discussing something, the blond was up close and personal to the dark one. He was obviously trying to impress or reinforce something verbally by holding the other's shoulders and then gripping him lightly on his upper arms. The dark haired one laughed lightly and then ruffled the blond's hair and then they moved as one out of the door. The blond stood with his back to his partner, facing the street and doing a visual scan of the block while he waited for the other to lock up behind him. I noted clearly that the blond one watched while the other pocketed the key. Then before they moved down the steps the blond moved in front, initiating a small playful scuffle, which ended quite insistently in the end with the blond taking the lead to walk down the steps. He received a cuff on his ear from behind for his efforts of jostling into first position and took no time in swinging back playfully for a moment to thrust backwards with a light elbow to the others midriff.

Yes more than just work partners and good buddies.

No, there was more to it than all of that. You had to be there to see the blonde one's eyes, his gestures, his mannerisms around his partner. He was walking just slightly in front of the dark one almost like a coiled spring; ready to uncoil and leap at anything that presented a threat. But why should that be that case? Sure they were cops – and hardened street cops who incorporated self-preservation and defensive survival behavior into their daily repertoire of existence. Vigilance was ingrained into their moves and their thinking and basic mistrust of fellow human beings was not without foundation when they did the sort of work they did every day, when they brushed against the dirtier side of life more often than not.

But this was more than that and couldn't account for what I was seeing in the tall blond.

For Hutchinson more so than the other one, was over the top. I knew his look and I knew what it was. I could pick it in him…and I didn't fool myself that my old Private Investigator skills were doing me a service here. Hell anyone from half a mile away could see it in him. A sense of guardedness shrouded him, preceded his every step, each bodily move and action.

Hutchinson's eyes swept about the street, the car they were climbing into and back to the apartment they had just exited. For the first time doing this job, I started to question my "invisibility" to the target. Was I parked far enough away not to be noticed? Should I change my car tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that?

I would have to change my observation tactics and positions, use some ingenuity to cover my tracks. In thinking that I climbed out of the car and made a show of rearranging what looked like work files and boxes in my trunk while I muttered in a low key to myself.

Hutchinson looked up sharply having caught me out of his peripheral vision. My movements and change of position earned me a thorough raking over by his narrowed eyes, which settled on me for a moment and then pulled away. Obviously for the now I was deemed unremarkable. Even the fact that I was brazenly only across the street from them didn't seem to bother him once he had checked me out. Of course I knew this was the first and last time I could try this stunt and continue to get overlooked.

This was nothing like tracking a dropped out loser of society. But nor was the target the problem here. It was the man beside him.

And the whole time he was trying to appear that he wasn't employing that heightened level of alertness. Why? There was only his partner with him. Why hide his behavior from the man called Starsky? Our proposed next target. The dark-haired man himself seemed to be almost nonchalant about the simple routine activity of leaving home and getting in a car. I looked more closely at him now while Hutchinson stalked around the car like some lioness that had ventured warily down to a waterhole with her cub.

The darker man shook his head, crossed his arms in quiet frustration as he waited for his partner to unlock the car door, and looked like he was saying something that the other man did not like to hear. Their voices were raised a little now and I saw the blond raise his finger and shake it at Starsky. I was able to discern "stubborn ass" "don't tell me what I can and can't do" to which Starsky returned with a scowl something along the line of "Oh come on Hutch, ease off a bit. It's been weeks – ya' gotta stop this…"

And then it came to me. That was it.

Starsky's responses to his blond counterpart and body language confirmed my analysis.

It was all one sided. Hutchinson was in full protection mode. Not self-preservation mode, not self-survival mode. Every action and nuance of his behavior pointed to the fact that he was acting like his partner's personal bodyguard.

I lagged behind but followed part of the way on their route when it was clear they were heading into their station and so left them to continue on, dropping completely off their tail.

Later in the afternoon I picked up their trail again as they left the precinct together and headed to a funky dark bar not too far from Metro. Leaving my car a block or so away I sauntered in and it was easy for me slide into a booth and pick up a meal menu. With a few enhancements to my morning appearance I imagined I remained boringly undetectable and non noteworthy for Hutchinson's periodic visual scan of the room. Sitting so close to them for that hour I was able to glean so much more about the two of them and their lives than could be ascertained from a parked car. Soon after I'd got the feel for the place and had been watching the two of them chatting to the female who waited on their table I took the opportunity to use the payphone out the back to call my moves into Camilla. When I returned to the main area I saw that Hutchinson was engaged in a quiet conversation with the black dude I'd noticed earlier behind the bar. I made my way to the bar, calling the attention of one of the bar staff who was free. I ordered a mixed drink, purely to give me more time to eavesdrop on Hutchinson's quiet words with the painfully thin bar man who by all accounts was the proprietor and on very familiar terms with the blond detective.

I filtered out the background sounds of the pinball machine and the juke box to zero in on the content of their little chat. Starsky was still laughing and flirting with a girl who was taking an inordinate amount to time to wipe down the table he and Hutchinson had sat down at.

"So how's curly doing?"

I clearly heard the outlandishly dressed bar owner address the blond.

"Holding his own, Hug. Looking like he's doing better than I really think he is. I more than get the feeling that he wants me to stop "mother Henning" it, as he puts it, wants to get back to normal. He hates the fuss, but whilst they're still out there, and they are - the threats real".

"I know where you're coming from my man, but Starsky's got a point. Any closer and you two would be married!"

Hutch laughed softly.

"Yeah well he says I nag him like a fish wife! Seriously, I just don't want to go through that again…for him to go through that again…oh my God, if I had've got there ….just a couple of minutes later… I still see those sick fucks chanting and wielding their knives. "

"HUTCH! You gettin' those beers or what? A man could die from thirst over here!"

Hutchinson raised his blond eyebrow sagely at the bar owner.

"My cue to act like nothing ever happened, like I don't care…We're starting to argue about it now. He wants me to leave it alone and I – well Christ – I just can't. Not yet. Not while that weirdo still has his followers out there. "

"Hutch, maybe you DO need to let go a bit. Everyone heals differently my man, he needs to be in control again…and let's face it. How will you ever know for sure that those freaks are all gone or accounted for? For Curly's sake you need to give him some breathing space. He needs it after what he went through."

"Easy to say, harder to do Hug. Shit real hard to do."

"You better get these drinks over to our boy before he comes over here and catches you worrying about him. And then I might just need to agree with Starsky and start calling you Detective Hen…don't seem to have quite the same ring to it as Detective Hutchinson now does it?"

"Ok, ok, ….you've made your point. Maybe I need to back off a bit.

"HUTCH…BEER!"

He turned and gave some of his own back.

"Keep it down over there you loud mouth bar heckler. You want the owner to throw us both out? ….Thanks for listening Hug, but keep your ears open. Let me know anything – anything that I need to know about before I need to know about it."

"Always bro, always "

With more food for thought than I had bargained on getting I nursed my whisky and dry in my hands and moved back to the table that I'd left and which was still free. I could continue to watch the two of them better from over near the wall now they were both seated at their table in the centre of the room.

So I just learned a lot about something but some vital information was still missing. It was clearly obvious that Hutchinson was greatly concerned for the welfare of his partner. Something had gone down with Starsky, something serious and something that warranted this measure of over compensatory protectiveness by Hutchinson.

Busy contemplating all of this I became aware of a woman who entered the bar by herself. Looking more closely I caught the curly haired wig that Fiona was wearing out of the corner of my eye.

Inexplicably for me because I was usually low key about this part of the job, after all it had been my bread and butter for years, I felt relieved that she had arrived to take over the watch and do the tail from here. I didn't fancy taking the risk of getting made on my surveillance. This whole 'I spy' game with these two guys was getting a little unnerving and we had only just begun. I could feel my blood pressure rise every time Hutchinson's eyes landed on me – albeit in an incidental glance around the room. With his intensity though, I couldn't even be sure it was an incidental glance. Shit I was jumpy just hearing his soft voice in the distance. Everytime his hand landed lightly on his partner's shoulder or arm I felt my gut tighten and my anus clench. I was zeroing in on his personal property and I was never so freaking aware of the transgression. My gut didn't like to even feel the pain of what Hutchinson would do to our little organization, me in particular if he knew that I intended to do more than just zero in visually on Starsky.

As I sit outside the station garage waiting, cramped and irritable inside my car I wonder what will be Fee's take on her watch last night and from her other stakeouts.

She didn't have my background in private investigation but she was no slouch when it came to working people out quickly. We both had another few days of this lined up before Camilla would want our feedback, our personal opinions. But I had no doubt that I'd would not be changing my conclusions which I had arrived at fairly quickly into the task of observing these two men. This job was just that – watching _two_ men, not one, not just the target with the dark curly hair, swarthy skin and deep blue eyes. For the time being at least, this man came as a package deal. As if to underscore my point I heard the laughter and the banter before I saw them both emerge from around the corner of the building. And the visual proved that my thoughts were heading in the right direction – because there it was again.

The laughter was there but it in no way minimized the underlying air of careful concentration on Hutchinson's face as he perused the car park. His penetrative gaze seemed to encompass everything in his visual field and I had to fight the reflexive response to hunker down lower in the front car seat thereby drawing his attention to me. Nothing had changed since yesterday morning. He was still on hyper-alert.

And there in lay our biggest risk. This target could not be considered in isolation. In order to get to him we had first to extricate him from the man who seemed almost to be fused to his side.

By the time I had to get back to Camilla, I intended to have the answer to why this was a one sided vigilance on Hutchinson's side and what the whole interplay could mean to our intentions to take this man right from under his guard.

An idea was forming in my head.

Whatever had happened recently to his partner to cause Hutchinson to build this steel wall around him, could be the making or the breaking of the strategy we could use with David Starsky.

When I and if I get stupid enough to overlook my twisting gut and to ignore the clear message it is trying to send me.

To just walk on by and forget we ever fell upon one curly dark haired, olive skinned Detective who also happens to be the right age, the right size and most importantly is unlucky enough to be damned by having the perfect discerning feature - deep blue eyes.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	3. Chapter 3

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

"You ain't really listening to me are ya? You haven't heard a word of what I 've just been saying' ."

"Starsky - Haven't I just been laughing at your poor joke with exaggerated effect for the past minute or so?"

"Maybe you've been laughin' but since we've stepped out here into this garage you've diverted every bit of your attention onto your personal radar detection device. You know you're gonna ruin your eyes if you keep using them like that every hour to scope out every inch of the city we cover each day."

"Starsky, you're exaggerating. I'm not…. I'm just…."

"Not what? Not acting like you're standing in a set up sting waiting for some big bust to go down and for some thug to pull a gun on me? Not looking like you're about to roll and kneel before you take out some sniper on a roof or behind a dumpster truck? Look at you for Christ sake? You're wound so tight I don't how you're getting a breath into ya'."

"Don't be ridiculous. Just because I'm a little wary since…"

"Trouble is Blondie, you're not even aware of it anymore. I don't think you even know you're doin' it. Hutch, as much as I love ya and appreciate everything you've done for me since those goons got me...you need to let go of the reins!"

Hutch whirled now, snapping his eyes off his quiet fixation of the car parked opposite and just down the street a little way. He couldn't think of one good reason the man in that car would be parked in the spot at that particular time of the day. Hearing his partner's words he tore himself away from self-absorption to listen again to Starsky's concerned tone. He'd heard this spiel a few times in the past week and he was getting good at deflecting it and brushing it off. But right now he pulled himself up with the realization that he _was_ in fact thinking too hard about a parked car that could have been there for any number of reasons. Maybe he was being paranoid. He sighed. And gave in to admitting to himself that he might be compensating for what had happened to Starsky.

But not _over_ compensating – he was not prepared to grant that yet.

"I'm not holding reins Starsky, I'm looking out for my partner. Those goons, as you call them, are still out there. Marcus may be locked up but his thoughts aren't...and his disciples aren't. And those fucking thoughts of his are still in the heads of those puppets out there who live by his word. Those same puppets who took you and tried to knife you to death. He wanted you enough to grab you the first time and -. My God Starsk, they almost killed you...I nearly lost you buddy...if I had've been there just a couple of minutes later...

"HUTCH STOP!"...you weren't late...I'm here, and I know better than anyone what those freaks are capable of...what they did...but I need to let go and move forward. I need a partner and a friend...not a bodyguard and a nursemaid. . What you've been doin', how you've been actin' – you've got to pull back. If you carry on jumping at every shadow, checking my locks every night, ringing me up to see if I'm OK ten minutes after dropping me off...then we become victims and the bad guys win."

"Starsky – it's not all that easy for me to drop the hard line on being careful. They got you so damn easily last time. Fucking right out from under my nose. I just don't want to give them the opportunity to do so again until we know its settled – till we know this whole cult following has backed off from waiting for their leader to speak to them from prison and give them more orders to follow."

"You know we'll never know that Hutch. No one will ever know whether the cult will lose its strength or continue to flourish. And they didn't take me right from under your damn nose – I was having a leak! Hardly something you could have stopped unless you plan on doin' what you've been doin' since I've been back at work. And, buddy, let me tell you people are starting to talk when you follow me to the John...as much as ...I love you...I don't want you in the john with me every time I need to take a piss."

"You always do this."

"Do what?"

"Use inane humor to try and deflect away from something that is serious and important. What do you want me to do Starsky? Let them just walk right up to you and take you again? It's my instinct to protect you."

"Ah Hutch, I know that buddy, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make light of this, I just want you to give us both some breathing space here. Let's just try to go about our day in a more "normal" fashion. I'm tired of you acting like my hired muscle. You better be careful here, I might just start to feel - unmasculine , emasculine – ah shit! Whatever that damn word is!"

"I'm not helping you find it."

"Huh?"

"The word. The word that you're looking for. I'm not helping you to find it. God help me, I wouldn't want you to feel any less manly because I want or automatically try to help you in any way."

"So you're not gonna tell me the word? That does not sound like the Hutch I know and love. I've never known you not to correct me or help me out with a missing word. Which means… you probably don't know it anyway."

"Ah ah…not going to fall for that one Gordo. Find it out in your own time. Now how about we go halves in pizza and beer and maybe some corny B rated horror film to zone out with later?"

"Nah...You're gonna drop me off, go home, and we can meet at Hugs later...where I'm gonna cream you at pool and go all by myself to the John to celebrate my freedom. You cool with that partner? You prepared to loosen up a bit on your "Save and Protect Starsky" act?

"I'm prepared to loosen up as you say, I'm not prepared to stop watching your back like I would be doing any time of any day."

"Well if that's as good a compromise as I'm gonna get from you so I'll take that. But Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Just from now on, can you walk beside me and not five paces in front of me. I'm sick of talking to your back and looking at your rear all day."

This time Hutch's laughter was genuine and unforced. Starsky was right. Huggy was right. He had to let go of this incessant need to smother his partner with protection.

The nightmare of Simon Marcus was behind them.

Now he just needed to make himself believe it.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

**One Week Earlier**

She was trying to make her first martini last and resisted the urge to throw it back and order another before Fiona finally decided to show up. But she pushed against the temptation – she needed to keep a clear head until she filled her colleague in on the latest developments and make some definite inroads to their plans for the operation in the coming weeks.

The cocktail hour martini had worked its magic anyway, taking the edge off her earlier irritable mood and soothing her worries about how her business was performing. Why did it seem that she was always the one to carry the brunt for the worries of the small group? By default she was seen as the leader and Fiona and Marty looked to her for all the decision making. Was it by default or how she had molded the dynamics of the business? She did like being in charge and she did like being in control – she knew that. But Christ someone had to be. With Fiona with her head always stuck in some guy's face and Marty more preoccupied with getting her back into bed at every opportunity, someone had to call the shots.

Toying with the rim of her glass she looked down at the small restaurant table where her paperwork was laid out in front of her. She was perusing the top page when she sensed the arrival of her awaited party.

"Sorry I'm late. Damn traffic in this area is ridiculous. Everyone's trying to get home from work at the same time. God – do I need one of those and fast."

Eyeing the near empty martini glass she motioned to the attractive young male waiter who moved quickly over to their table.

"I'd like a dry martini, two olives. Camilla another?"

Camilla taller by half a foot, elegantly dressed and immaculately made up shook her head.

"Maybe later. Need to discuss some things with you first. You are late again Fee."

"Fine. Be in a snit about it then." She paused and smiled up suggestively at the well built waiter. "Well looks like I'm drinking on my own for now Honey. Maybe you could join us if you're not too busy with the pre-dinner rush, seeing my friend here is in such a serious mood. "

She laughed lightly as she looked up teasingly at the young man's chest, her hand brushing quickly over his arm as he wrote down the order.

"Perhaps – later. But right now, it's busy."

She merely laughed again and turned away as though he was already forgotten, his small role already having played out its use for her.

Camilla pressed her lips together and leaned back in her chair hard, already frustrated by her friend's antics.

"God do you have to play those stupid games every time we sit down at a bar or a restaurant? I'm so tired of them. You're not a sex kitten, you're a middle aged woman."

"What's wrong with a little harmless flirtation. I've seen you do it more than enough in your time to get what you want."

"That's right. To get what I want, or need. I'd hardly waste my time, talent or quality on somewhat like a busboy just to try and prove that you're still attractive to the opposite sex at forty-five."

"Forty three Camilla. You're the forty-five year old. And not everything is about getting ahead – I like to live a little too, maybe you should try it. All you think of is this damn business and not what to do with the money we make from it."

"Given that I am the one who drives this operation of ours and keeps us in the black you should damn well appreciate that I think of the business first. I don't see your personal savings from your meager divorce settlement keeping you in martinis and designer labels. Without me you'd be shacked up in some suburban rut going no where every day of your boring little life. You should be thankful we've got where we've got."

"Alright already. Enough with the lecturing. You wanted me here for a business meet. I'm here – and so let's talk. I'm not in the mood for another one of your control freak rants."

Taking the proffered drink she barely noticed the eager look on the young man's face as he slid it carefully onto her on the table. In work mode now she was all ears and he was all too easily forgotten. He merely shrugged his broad shoulders and moved away.

Turning to face her companion she hoped that she had managed to hide her pique at the other woman's habit of talking down to her. Camilla could be a tyrant, but she was a lucrative ally also and Fiona although not as smart as her friend, was smart enough to realize she could ill afford to get her offside.

Giving her full attention to Camilla now she was momentarily distracted by a light toot of a horn and then a yell.

It was still light outside and seated as they were near the big front window her eyes found the source of the raised voices.

Momentarily she allowed herself to be distracted by a small scene being played out across the busy street from the restaurant. Two men seemed to be arguing over car trouble, one at the engine the other standing near the driver's door holding up his arms in frustration.

Then the cut of Camilla's sharp voice sliced the air and she knew she needed to listen up.

Shame though, because the blond waving his arms about and yelling was far too easy to look at.

But with the mood Camilla was in she knew when she had reached her limits with her. She plastered what she hoped was sincere interest on her face and tried to forget about them blond across the street.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Hutch! Kill it! Kill it!"

In his haste to cut the engine at Starsky's frantic yells Hutch tipped the horn and then jumped out of the car startling at the sudden sound it made.

"What do you mean wait? You told me to turn the engine. I did. Now you're telling me to wait."

"I told you to turn it when I told you to turn it. Not when you decided to do it."

"Oh great. So how am I supposed to know when you want me to turn it? You held up your damn arm."

"I held up my arm to signal NOT to turn it. To wait."

'Starsky come on! This is the third time in two weeks your car has just decided to die on us. And you claim it's the reliable one of our vehicles. Its obvious there is something really wrong with the engine. Let's just lock it up and call in a tow truck."

"Hutch, there ain't nothin' wrong with my car…its just being temperamental. Like you are whenever something goes wrong with my car. Just be patient and let me look in her engine and see what the problem is. I need to do this without you turning the engine, and it takes some time. She needs care and loving. She can't be rushed. "

"Fine – then I'll just walk across the street and go grab myself a beer why you look real close at her engine and give her all the time she needs. "

"Then who will turn the engine?"

"Starsky! Are you deliberating trying to provoke me? Because it's working. We've had a shitty day and now all I wanted to do was grab a cool beer and get home. Now we're stuck on the side of the road in rush hour traffic while you are romancing your engine. This wouldn't have happened if you had taken it in to Merle's the first time you had problems with it."

"Yes and have you thought Hutch that my car has been playing up ever since you were driving it while I was….ah….while I was not around for those few days. I think you must have ridden by poor baby hard because she has been struggling ever since. "

_Shit …..if only he knew how hard I did in fact ride her. It's a wonder she has any undercarriage left after I ripped up those foothills trying to give chase to Marcus' men's van._

"Well I'm damn well sure I wouldn't have treated her more roughly than you do at times. Maybe she's suffering from withdrawals at not having been driven at 100 miles an hour in closed in traffic or whipped around corners so that her rearend nearly gets detached from her body. Ever thought about that Starsky?"

Hutch slashed the air with his hands and glared threateningly at his partner who already had his head back under the bonnet. The whole effect lost upon him.

"Hutch? What was that? Sorry distracted here. Hey? Can you turn the engine for me?"

With a cursed expletive, Hutch threw himself back into the car's driver's seat and accepted that his cold brew would have to wait. Tonight he was second in line to Starsky's red-hot lover with four wheels.

"Should've totalled the thing while I had the damn chance!"

But then he knew he didn't mean it.

The Torino was after all an extension of the man he had come so close to losing only a mere few weeks earlier and by virtue of that connection to Starsky he would just have to suffer her some more.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Well if you ask me Camilla, this guy sounds like one sick puppy. Why are these guys always such whacko's? "

"He doesn't pay us to ask us what he thinks of him Fee. He pays us to get him what he wants. And in his opinion the last two "items" haven't come up to his specifications."

"What do you mean? They met every requirement. Maybe not total stunners, but they had the goods, the parts. So, maybe they weren't so bright or yeah, that last one was probably a bit loopy – we did get him from that mental half way home where the crazies go to live when they get out of the institutions. Jesus it's not easy finding a match for all the features he wants _and_ to have brains and charm with it. If it hasn't occurred to him social misfits are social misfits for a reason."

"That's the point Fee. We're missing the benchmark. We're the one targeting social misfits and social dropouts because its safer for us that way. Him? He doesn't give one shit where we get them from as long as they meet his specifications. He wants the whole package and we're not finding it for him. And if we're not finding it for him Fee, we're not getting the money he's willing to pay us. Christ, he's let me know today that if we don't pick up the caliber he'll revise our deal. Wants to cut us back by two K a job."

"Bastard. Bastard! Perhaps you should tell him that he's living in a fantasy world Camilla. It's impossible to get the sort of product he wants all the time. The first two guys made him more than happy I thought."

"Yes…but they were the first two. The last two haven't pleased him and if anything I suppose he thought we were going to bring our act up with each Take. Not go backwards. He thinks we've not understood the profile clearly enough. Either that, or that we're getting lazy and too quick to act without finding the best possible profile match."

"You mean he thinks we're getting greedy and snatching too fast?"

"Most likely. And most likely he's reconsidering using us for much longer if we don't come up with a better quality target."

"Well if he broadened his focus a bit – considered someone other than such a strict profile, we'd have a far better chance of getting him some good quality merchandise. The streets are full of Latinos, fine young blacks and some gorgeous Nordic types. And speaking of Nordic types…."

Her eyes drifted back to the window to sneak another coveted look at the beautiful tall blond she had eyed before.

He wasn't in view any longer.

_Must be in the car. Damn come out you great blond hunk, let me look at you again._

And his friend with whom he was verbally sparring was hidden under the bonnet of the loud looking racer car. She could see his ass though and what she saw was worth revisiting a couple of times while Camilla continued on in the background.

"Fee? You want to cut the shit and pay attention to this? Marty could put in some more hours. His other side line with his few PI cases has been drying up on him."

"Sorry ….yeah…yeah..You were saying something about Marty?"

"I think we need to step up our trawling time. Put in some more hours, broaden our searches, consider new places, more cohorts - the university, the itinerant workers down around the beaches, the docks – must be so many young men down there that have come in for casual work."

"Camilla, Marty and I are putting in more than ten hours some days now. We do most of the legwork and its damn hard work. Ok so I get that you're busy doing all the work behind the scenes, the prep, covering our tracks and checking out the targets. So we're already strapped. Maybe we need to take on another player – intensify our efforts. Cost us money in the short term, but could mean we get more leads to tug on."

"No. No way – absolutely no way. Too dangerous. No new players. Just us. We know each other well enough. I'm not prepared to trust anyone else with this sort of gig. It's not like other jobs we've done. It's up there in the danger stakes Fee. This is big time. We'd all be looking at lengthy prison sentences if we got busted. We've got to keep this operation tight."

"Great. So just work us into the ground? I already get no time to play. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a lay?"

"Fiona – cut that rubbish out. This is not about your fucking sex life."

"That's the point Camilla, since we've been running this game I have NO fucking whatsoever. And stop looking at me like you're some high and mighty moral queen. Maybe I'm getting tired of you calling the shots all the time."

"Fiona. You push me into this position by taking on this – this dumb broad routine all the time – as if all you want is a quick lay and to party and you'll be fine. For Christ sake! If you want to get somewhere in life so that you can party all day long than you've got to do the work now. Can't you just be focused for the time it takes to talk this out?"

'It's not freaking rubbish! I'm tired Camilla. Back to back trawling shifts, sitting in cramped cars, seedy bars, dirty pool rooms. I want some action of my own. You call this going somewhere in the world? This job? This job is worse that what I would ever have imagined I'd have to do in life. I'm up to here with looking at dirty homeless tramps and depressed ex drug addicts. I want to be around some real men. Men who smell nice and have clean hair and can string a sentence together. I need a bit of time off. All work and no play makes Fiona a very bored and hungry woman."

"Oh well then damn well order a meal and get over it."

"Can't feed the sort of hunger I've got with food darlin'"

"From what I've learned about you over the time I've known you Fee, can't feed that hunger at all. You always want more."

"Yeah well…at least I know I'm still young enough to want it and young enough to get it. … Don't see you getting any except the occasional hand job you throw out to Marty to keep him at your beck and call."

"You smart mouthed bitch. Keep my own personal sex life out of this Fiona. Don't take out your sexual frustrations on me. It's about time you admitted to yourself that you're not twenty-five anymore and toned your act down."

"See – I'm right. Your in a foul mood because you don't let yourself do anything but work and turn yourself inside out for these freaking demanding clients. You need to relax more and find yourself a good time occasionally. You never know Camilla, you might just re-discover your own hunger."

She faded off as she again tracked the blond as he had reappeared. He was out of the car again and now standing near the open bonnet of the red car alongside his - friend? Hard to say as they seemed to be arguing a lot.

"Oh man, and there is exactly the piece of action that could feed my hunger. Shit he's a stunner. I so go for tall golden blonds. He looks like a golden god, all silky and ….. Hey! Wait! SHIT! Camilla! Look at him."

But her friend, angry at the heated interchange had retreated to her paperwork , her head bowed, scribbling ideas and notes and chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. Pushing Fiona's bold statements that were too close to the bone out of her mind she chose to ignore the other woman's insistence.

"….Not interested in your sexual fantasies Fee. Perve at the blond all you like. I'm more interested in trying to figure how we can make enough money to make my own fantasies come to life."

"No not the blond – not him. Camilla do you have those small binoculars that you carry around in your handbag on you today?"

"Jesus Fee." She shoved her handbag at the other woman and kept scribbling. "Side pocket. God where is that waiter, I need another God damn drink."

Fiona picked up a menu from the table and did her best to hide her furtive glance out the window using the opera sized binoculars to zoom in on a quick close up of her quarry.

Camilla was talking to the waiter and ordering more drinks for the both of them when Fiona exclaimed appreciatively at what she viewed in close up.

"Fee put the damn things down will you? We're in a restaurant you crazy bitch. You can't go around ogling men in close up in a public place with a set of fucking binoculars."

She heard her language degenerating – a sure symptom that the other woman had threatened her upper crust social façade.

She snatched the small set from other woman's hands.

"Did you just order drinks?" Fiona asked a slow smile curling her lips.

"Yes – got you a second martini. You need it to cool down that hot blood of yours."

"Well that's good. Now I can sit back with my drink and watch the show as you go to work and do what you do best my friend. Acting was always your forte not mine."

"What the hell?"

"Don't ask too many questions they've been there a while and could be leaving soon. Your on Camilla - stage right, directly across the street. "

"Fee you're making no damn sense."

"Outside. The gorgeous tall blond."

"Oh will you shut your mouth about the blond. Go out there yourself if you're so desperate to pull a lover off the street. I can see him anyway – nice but he's too young for you."

"Bullshit! Never too young for me. But that's not the point. It's his friend, or the guy he's with – they seem to be at each others throats so maybe not friends."

Camilla took a disinterested glance out the window once more.

"All I see is the blond and someone's behind – sexy ass I'll grant you that – bent over some damn car's engine. So what? You want me to pick them up for you by pulling them in here with some line. Forget it! Do your own work in your own time."

"Camilla. Get your bag and go. Think of a line and fast. The guy with the great ass? Unless I'm mistaken and these binoculars are crap he is the closet thing I have seen to those photos your client sent us. In fact he's way better. But until you get up close we won't know for sure if he's got what we really need. The eyes."

Just then the tasty curved ass, tight in its skintight jeans shuffled back from under the engine, and the ass became a full body, which turned suddenly to call to the blond. In doing so Camilla got a sweeping view that had her sucking in her breath in quiet shock.

Fee chuckled and pushed her out of her chair.

"See what I mean? Now go, do your thing and get back here and let me know the verdict. Either way – I'll take them both whether we could use the dark one or not. I could think of many uses for the two of them other than our business venture. Hot Mama! Your efforts won't be wasted."

As she watched Camilla sweep elegantly out of the front of the restaurant and move across the street in that amazingly confident way only Camilla could affect, she looked again at the two men who were totally oblivious to the fact that any minute they were soon to come under her spell. One long gaze through her smoky sultry eyes was generally enough to have any man, whatever age, beguiled. Fiona had never seen anyone resist her sophisticated sensuality, even now when she was in her forties.

_As much as I'd like the money Mr Sexy Ass would haul for us, I am almost hoping when he turns his face to Camilla, that his eyes are ... any shade of the rainbow except blue - vivid dark blue. Then maybe when Camilla has let go of the idea of using him, I can cross that street and line up some live action for the rest of the night._

_Yes...baby. One light and one dark. I'll take them both please - and together._

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS


	4. Chapter 4

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

"Ok! I think I've found the problem."

"What? So you mean we might actually be moving some time in the next hour? I might get home by nightfall and not be left stranded on the side of the street while you continue to stare lovingly at your car's engine?"

"Quit your bitchin' Hutch and turn it one more time."

"One more time Starsky, just one more time and then I'm walking across the street and picking up a cab...and leaving you here with your precious car."

Of course he knew he wouldn't do that - not even though he really wanted to such was his degree of exasperation with his partner and this damn red hot rod. But he knew he wouldn't leave Starsky's side, not here on an open street, not now when everything was still so fresh for him after Marcus. He also knew that Starsky knew that he wouldn't - and wondered if perhaps his partner was partly pushing him to see if he could in fact let go of his protective act.

_Shit is that why you are antagonising me so much with this "let me take it slowly with her engine - she needs time and care." Crap. Maybe he was. Starsky could be creatively divisive when he wanted to be. If he thought it would help Hutch to stop smothering him so much._

Turning the key with a lot of frustration and very little expectation of any result Hutch couldn't help his unsuppressed "YEESSSS!" when the Torino's engine purred to life.

Starsky was equally buoyant as he whooped from under the hood.

"There's my baby! There she goes. Told you Hutch just needs a little care and lovin' and she responds. Keep the gas up for a while till we get the revs up – don't want her to choke again."

"Me and you both buddy. That beer is looking real good right about now and maybe we can get on the damn road and outta here."

Wiping his hands and the grease marks off the hood Starsky made a mental note to get the Torino into Merle's the next day if at all possible. He didn't fancy another combative round with Hutch if the engine failed again. They would just have to drive Hutch's heap for the next day or two. Grimacing at the distasteful thought he caught a whiff of overpowering perfume before he turned to find a woman standing very close to him.

"I see you've managed to get it started again."

Surprise registered on his face, as he was momentarily caught off guard – which was how she had hoped it would go. She needed to have the upper hand in taking him by surprise now more than ever to deflect away from her own shock. Only her well-practiced art of staging a grift kept her from gasping out loud when the man whom she had only viewed from a distance turned his full gaze upon her. The overwhelming jolt to her midsection hit like a soft punch and nearly had her reaching to cover her vermillion painted mouth with her shaking hand. Within seconds she had recovered her composure. Her years of deceitful exchanges with strangers had her quickly schooling her face to ensure it was clear of any sign of what she was thinking.

And what she was thinking was rushing through her veins and pushing at her chest wall, the thoughts fighting to expand in her and erupt with pure excitement. Excitement was a state that came infrequently to her jaded persona these days – but it was thrumming in her now as she filled her eyes with the sheer perfection of the man in front of her. Excitement because the man standing before her embodied success - he was the best Target she had seen so far and he therefore represented financial reward. But the excitement was also visceral and hot. It pulsed in her blood and clenched hard in her lower stomach as the pure raw sexuality of the man hit her dormant erogenous receptors. Too long since she had felt her own libidinal surges she savoured the pull.

He was perfection. Perfection for her client. Every feature was as had been described to her, detailed obsessively to her and dangled in front of her as the ultimate goal. If she could attain this goal, secure it and deliver it to the man who wanted it and was prepared to pay big money for it – she would be financially set for the next three months – maybe longer.

And the eyes! They were the deepest blue framed in the thickest darkest lashes and underlined in smudgy dark lower lashes looked directly in to her face.

The Holy Grail had just fallen into her lap and she hadn't even had to go looking for it.

_Holy Grail…. Holy Shit. Keep your head. Don't fuck this one up. Don't let your own lust get in the way of getting the groundwork laid for this. You've got to put out the hooks, drop the bait around gently…. don't disturb the water too much. Calm and steady. Reel him in._

This dark curly haired man with the vibrant eyes and almost electrified aura responded to her.

"Huh? Oh yeah…engines been playing up but she's kicking over now."

He looked about him, behind her - as if trying to answer his own question of where she had come from and why she was talking to him. He face was friendly but there was an air of initial – was it – wariness?

She smiled sultrily, slowly and combined it with just the right touch of curiosity and social distancing. Social respect for a man she had only just met. She pulled back enough to not encroach too quickly. Let him see that she had some class about her, some decorum - good breeding.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It's just that I was leaving the restaurant across the way and caught the sound of you and your friend trying to get the car started."

She smiled again and continued on with her explanation.

"Now normally I'd have to say that mechanical troubles with cars are not my great interest, but I couldn't help but notice the color of your car. I hope you don't mind, but I just had to walk over and ask you about it. You see, I'm in the process of deciding on a new car – my husband keeps joking that I can't seem to make up my mind. But – it's the color. I'm have my heart set on a very particular color. You see I want something really – well a color that says something. Dramatic. Bold. This shade of red is just... well let's say – this _is_ bold. I haven't seen this shade ever before. What is it called? ... is it Poppy Red or Fire Red..."

If there had been a trace of uncertainty on his face when she had first approached it was quickly dispelled now. The muscular compact body relaxed and he crossed his arms easily now, almost languidly and leaned his lean hip into the bonnet as he appraised her more. The blue eyes lit up, crinkling at the sides and his face positively shone with pride. Obviously the car was a subject that he was more than happy to explore with a stranger.

She had found one of his weaknesses – every man had one - this over the top loud piece of metal with its garish color.

"Ah…you like it? Well I guess the shade of red is how you see it in your own eyes. For me, I like to call it "Flamenco Red." Flamenco. Bold, daring and passionate. Very passionate."

"Flamenco? Like the dance, Latin dancing? Spanish. Well that certainly conjures up …a feel that is far more descriptive than just plain old red."

"Yeah – Flamenco like those hot Spanish dancing ladies. That's my car – that's my girl. She moves like those dancers do too. Fast and swirling, cuts in and out of traffic, changes direction in a split section. Yeah …Flamenco that's a good way to describe her color."

Camilla pushed her act up a half notch now that she has seen the man relax into the conversation. Was he flirting with her? Or was this his nature with everyone who he engaged with on a friendly social level?

The throating purring laugh and the quick toss of her sleek dark hair was intended to pull him in.

"Why do I get the feeling that you are making the name of that color up? "Flamenco Red!" Really?"

"No – I mean yeah - that's serious. For real."

A light cough had them both turning and she had almost forgotten about the tall blond who had only now climbed out of the car to come and stand next to the dark haired one.

"Not for real. Not in the least for real. The Torino color is called Candy Apple Red and my friend here is just letting his imagination run away with him. The closest thing this car would have to a Latin connection is the Porto Rican grease monkey down at the repair shop that he uses."

"I'm sorry about my rude partner here - its a classic case of car envy. His own 'car' and I use the word loosely because it is really a piece of junk metal on wheels, is the color of fresh cow dung."

She smiled at the dark man's verbal jab at his blond friend and her attention moved to the other man.

The blond was looking at her with far more curiosity than the dark one had and she wondered at his intense visual scrutiny. She felt ever so slightly disconcerted by his hovering gaze. Amazingly his eyes were blue too – but a different hue to the dark one – his were icy and cool while the dark haired ones were dark blue pools. Such a contrast the two of them made standing side by side.

"We going or what Starsk? Or you want to stay and talk to this lovely lady some more about your Latin lover? Excuse me Ma'am it's just been a long day and I'm keen to hit the road."

"Oh please don't let me keep you. Sorry…didn't mean to sideline your friend here with car talk. Anyway…so "Candy Apple" you say? I will write it down and let my husband know. Thanks for the tip – ah…."

The dark haired one stood up straight from his sideways loll against the car's hood.

"Dave – Dave and – my partner, Ken. And no problems - sorry I didn't catch your name? "

"Suzanne. Good luck with your engine. I'd better get back to my dinner guest. I left her back in the restaurant. Nice meeting you both, Dave, Ken."

She turned, waved lightly as she walked off and headed back across the street.

Hutch smirked at his partner.

"Flamenco Red! Christ you're full of it today Starsky! Where did that shit come from?"

"Well it was working out very nicely until you shoved your big blond head into the picture. Didn't you ever learn to leave a man alone when he's in the middle of scorin'?"

"What! Scoring? Starsky, that was one very attractive lady – and I don't doubt she might have been laying the word down for you. But she was just a bit too old for you buddy. Playing in the wrong field there don't you think?"

"Old? Really? Seemed like a prime piece of woman to me. "

"Yeah – in her prime is the right word. She'd have to be at least ten years older than us."

"So what? She's got all the assets and the class and obviously she spotted the same in me."

"Class? She spotted class in you? Oh that's right, that you're a Class A jerk. And the little detail that she's married? Doesn't worry you? "

"Hutch – knock it off. I was just being friendly. She was admiring my car. See, someone with taste who unlike you appreciate the finer things in life."

"She was admiring more than your car, buddy I can tell you that. I saw her. She was certainly appreciating your butt while you were bending over this heap."

Starsky glared at him.

"I can't help it if I have developed a highly honed set of skills that attract gorgeous women of all ages. Nothing wrong with a bit of harmless admiration of an attractive woman. "

"Oh Starsky – you have not developed any set of skills – you were born a flirt and will always be a flirt. Simple as that. You'd flirt with your own Grandmother if she had a kind word for you. Now come on you Latin lover– lets get your little Flamenco lady here back on the streets and head for home."

They climbed into the Torino and Starsky gave the engine a few successive revs, pushing the pedal hard to the floor and smiled lasciviously at the sound.

"Oh yeah baby that's the sound I like to hear you make. Don't take any notice of that grouch in the passenger seat, he's just jealous of my pulling machine, aren't you pal? "

Hutch rolled his eyes and slammed the car door.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH 

Fiona was waiting for her, yet another drink in her hand. She didn't have to ask. The answer was clearly evident in Camilla's face as she swept back into the restaurant and slid into her chair.

Victory was written all over her face. So sure was Fiona already that Camilla had found the "one" that she had taken down the registration number of the car and snapped a couple of shots with her zoom in camera.

" I gather Camilla, that there is to be no fun for me tonight with a double act of one blond and one dark. You want to use him don't you? They are now off limits for the games I had in mind with them tonight."

"Use him? Oh yes can we use him! Fiona, "Dave" as he's called is our meal ticket for the next few months. Let's get out of here…I need to get onto Marty. He's got work to do. In the next seventy-two hours we need to find out all we can about our sexy friend with the bluest eyes you can imagine. If we work this well, we could have a nice fat check in our hands by this time next week."

"Any chance of getting some use out of him ourselves before we have to turn him over to your client? After all I did spot him and I think its unfair that I don't get a little play time with him first."

"You didn't want any play time with the others."

"But the others weren't in the same league as this one. You saw him up close. You spoke to him. What do you think Camilla?"

"Oh I think that our new man is well worth a trial run - test out the merchandise before we move it down the line. Yeah Fee...this one is in a very different league to the others."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

**Day Four of the Surveillance**

"Look, I don't like it. I don't like it all. But I found out something interesting that may give us the edge. I've been tailing him for four days now and he's never alone. Even when Hutchinson drops him off after work, there's a patrol car watching the place, then the blonde one turns back up, then when he goes, there's a variety of visitors or "watchers" until Hutchinson picks him up again or he goes to get Hutchinson and so the day starts over again".

He looked at the two women intently, before handing over a bundle of neatly cut newspaper clippings.

"Read 'em. Decorated Bay City cop, kidnapped and held by the Marcus Cult, four weeks ago. Marcus was given life for, amongst other things, organizing the kidnapping and the attempted murder of one David Starsky. He's being protected alright, that explains why everyone is hovering over him like flies round a jam jar: there's enough of Marcus's followers still out there to be a threat to him and they are not taking any chances."

Both women smiled at the same time, the larger of the two still thumbing through the cuttings, tracing a very well manicured nail around a black and white photo of Starsky, taken on the steps of the court building after Marcus's sentencing.

"Well, well….You've certainly done your homework Marty. Good work. We have certainly found our edge then, haven't we? Time is not on our side but it would appear that Simon Marcus is. When we "procure" him, they will naturally assume that Marcus is involved, that will buy us time to get him fit for auction and removed to a different location."

"Yes, but that doesn't solve the initial problem of getting him alone in the first place! I told you, his apartment is busier than a railway station, even at that bar they go to, Huggys, he is accompanied to the friggin' john by his blonde shadow! This is still raw to them; they won't leave his side until they feel he is safe. And how long is a piece of string? We may have the edge, but we wont have the opportunity. We need to put this one on hold or drop it for good. There's some new bums moved into the Jackman's alley, I could …."

"NO! We are NOT losing this one, he is perfect. I've already spoken to our buyer and the deal is on. This one is too valuable to me, after that total fuck up with the last one….. With us having to refund ten thousand because you did NOT do your homework properly"

"How did I know they were contact lenses? How many skid row bums can afford contacts…I didn't think.."

"NO, you didn't, and because of that I've lost ground with the biggest client we've ever had and a great deal of money. I don't want anymore of your mistakes to cost me this entire "organization". Now, you owe me and you listen good. I want David Starsky and I want him by the end of this week. As you are obviously too stupid to think for yourself, we will come up with a plan and you will execute it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Camilla it's one thing to look at photos and smooch on the street with a prospective target, it's a fucking bigger step to make the move to do the Take. I'm not sure you're understanding the position we're putting ourselves in with this one. David Starsky comes with strings, lots of them and their solid and tightly bound. You want us to cut him free and run then you had damn well better make sure you've got it planned tightly so we get time to get him clear out of the city before his partner comes looking for him. Because I can tell you and Fiona will too, his partner will come after us and he won't be easy to shake off."

"He's right Camilla. I told you that in the car yesterday. Sure he is a perfect match, but we couldn't have picked a worse candidate for a high-risk pull. A homicide cop with a deep social niche and lots of connections that will move in on us faster than we can move him. Your client's perfect match is secured behind a wired fence with a freaking Rottweiler patrolling the perimeter. The blond is not going to be easy to get past and his teeth are sharp. "

Fiona smiled to herself as she thought back to her first impressions of Hutchinson that day in the restaurant last week when she eyed him lustfully as he stood beside the red Torino arguing with his partner.

"He might be one sexy beast but I don't like his attitude and I think he'll like our attitude to his partner a hell of a lot less. Are you really sure you want to take him on Camilla? Him and the whole city Police Department?"

"What happened to your whining about being sick of trailing gutter trash? You've had the freedom these past days to move in better circles and watch our man from more interesting places than filthy alley ways so shut up your bitching. Yes I know Hutchinson is a barrier. I felt it even in the brief meeting with him next to the Torino. But Marty here has done his Private Investigator job well haven't you Marty? This sicko cult guy has given us the edge we need. When we move in on Starsky, his partner will have every available police resource running in circles looking under Simon Marcus's bed for his partner. It gives us the perfect cover and the time we need to get Starsky to where we need him. So I suggest you run along and find out everything you can about the Simon Marcus cult, use that contact of yours to get inside the Police Station to find out more about David Starsky, I want medical records as well and keep up the surveillance, night and day.

I'm going to shape up the best way to do the Take. You can work with me on that Fiona. We have to find a window of opportunity when our dark one is without his blond protector - we don't need long - just need him alone."

"Two days -"

With the glossy print in her hand she ran her finger over the dark curls and touched the blue eyes looking out, almost straight at the camera. But in fact he had been looking across at his partner and laughing. She remembered clearly when she had zoomed in on the shot. It was a wonderful carefree close up and her client had been enraptured with the image.

"Two days more and I want David Michael Starsky in our possession."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

She ran her hands down her tailored suit and smoothed at her sleek dark hair, checking her makeup carefully in the rear vision and practicing her best distressed female look, a helpless feminine wile she considered was undoubtedly one of her best faces in her repertoire.

Not easy for her. Not easy to be weak when she was so strong. But it had paved many a way for her over the years.

He was at least ten minutes later than usual so she checked her notes again and scowled.

_Come on. Where are you? Don't choose this morning of all mornings to divert from routine. Marty said this was your route every day when it was your turn to pick Hutchinson up and he had distinctly heard you both yelling out the arrangements last night when you dropped him off at his place after beers at the black man's bar._

He had to be alone. She had to get him alone. It was the only way and there were few damn opportunities short of breaking into his apartment.

A flash of red out of the corner of her eye and she saw him at the lights less than one hundred yards back. Good. Perfect in fact. A red light. Fate was playing into her hand. Now he would have a long view of her as he waited at the lights. Surely he would recognise her from the meeting outside the restaurant. Surely.

The road wasn't busy and she had parked the car so that it was a little obtrusive on the side of the road. He couldn't help but see her as he glided by. Marty had drained the fuel pump and cut the fuel line and left her there over half an hour ago to allow for any variations in Starsky's schedule.

Moving out into the side of the road where the traffic passed by she had her hand on her forehead and the helpless, exasperated look of a female in strife. As the flash of red advanced she looked to the side so that he would get a full view of her face and took another daring step back into the street, almost risking being run over.

She knew he would stop. Even if he didn't recognize her he would stop. These two cops were tough, hard and ruthless in so many ways but still traditional men. Where a lady in need was in the picture they would be unlikely to fail with their stereotypic male responses. She counted on chivalry, common courtesy and old-fashioned heroism to save the day.

And as the sleek red car slowed and then drew to a stop and the window was wound down to reveal the slightly concerned face of David Starsky, she knew that his chivalrous programming was winning through for her.

With a touch of regret she realized that he didn't in fact recognize her at first. She was unprepared for the bite of disappointment that caused in her and the small shock that she was not as unforgettable as she once might have been.

"Hi there? Having car trouble here Ma'am? It's a bit dangerous with the way you're standing here on the side of the road."

"Oh I didn't even think of that …I was just so upset….OH! Hello again. It's you and your Flamenco red car."

Memory lit his face and he smiled broadly.

"Oh yeah! Sorry - on automatic pilot here and didn't recognize you. Sorry I can't recall your name."

Another lance of disappointment. Once there was a time when no man would forget her name.

"Suzanne – and you were Dave. I remember. So Dave, now it's me that has the car trouble! Life is funny isn't it?"

"Seems that way doesn't it? Look let me just pull over here and I'll have a look."

He was beside her in a moment.

"What happened?"

"I don't know…. I was just driving along and the car just sort of died on me. Like a slow death. I would have lifted the hood but I wouldn't even know what to look for so…"

"Keys?"

He was in the drivers side and turning the ignition – frowning. He got out and pushed the big car back and forth and then squatted down underneath and saw what he was probably expecting to find.

Walking around to the front he lifted the hood with ease.

_My God but he was so sexy. He moves like a panther. And that ass!_

"Suzanne – the car is completely empty. No fuel. Looks like you've got a fuel leak. There's fresh fuel on the blacktop under the car. You weren't gonna get much further on no gas. Going to have to get the car towed to a repair shop to fix that leak."

"Oh I can't believe it! No! Not this morning of all mornings!"

"Hey it's no big deal. Lock up and jump in and I'll drop you where you can arrange a tow truck. I'm on my way to work so I'm heading into toward town, need to pick up my partner on the way though. We usually drive in to work together. You met him the other day – Ken."

"Oh I appreciate that Dave, it's just…oh NO! What a complete mess and those poor little children were all waiting. They are going to be so upset and disappointed and I've ruined their fun completely. I needed to be somewhere urgently in thirty minutes."

"Hey what's the problem? You mentioned kids?"

"I – I am a benefactor and on the board for a large children's charity – hospital bound children's charity – we arrange functions for kids who have been stuck in hospital for far too long with serious illnesses. This morning was a major event we have been planning for months. The children were going to get a visit from one of the biggest baseball stars in the city. I had to pick him up and finalize some of the arrangements and take him to the Pediatric Hospital. Now it's wrecked. I am running late and not only that I've just realized I've left the most important document I need for him to sign before we go ahead with his visit – at home in the entry hall. God! I was just so rushed and anxious this morning – its such a big thing for the poor little kids…"

Not surprising her ploy won home.

It was a heady combination – attractive helpless female in distress, suffering little children and throw in a prize sports hero on top…and bulls eye. Cop to the rescue.

"Well we can't have those kids missing out on anything. Jump in – my Torino will get you back home my lady – get those papers, back out on the road and to the place you need to pick your special guest up… and then onto the hospital. We'll get it all done in less than thirty minutes."

"But I need to go back home – ten minutes drive back."

"Hey its ok. That suits me better anyway as I need to phone Hutch …ah Ken…. and let him know my moves."

"Oh he'll be angry that you'll be late picking him up for work."

"No not when I tell him it's for a good cause…but he _will_ be angry if I don't ring him at all. My partner is expectin' me and might think the worse has happened to me if I don't show up at the usual time. He's not to know that I am escorting a very beautiful lady on a very important mission to save the day for sick kids."

He winked and pulled out into the street.

"We'll its nice to think that you have someone looking out for you. You must be very close friends."

"Yep – you could say that."

As she gave him the directions for her house, she couldn't help but think that in fact Ken Hutchinson had more cause for concern than he would ever imagine when his lively partner had stopped to help this particular female in distress.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSH

"Wow some place you've got here. Must take a small army to maintain your lawns alone."

She merely smiled not wanting to get into any personal areas and she tried to look appropriately humble as a benefactor of a sick children's charity might be expected to look. If he knew what it actually did cost her for the upkeep on this small mansion and how she struggled to hold the property for what it attributed her in appearances sake, he might understand why she was so desperate to get her hands on that next big check from her client. Her husband had left her a lot in the divorce settlement but the lot that he left her included a house that cost a small fortune to run.

_You Mr. Starsky with the oh so cute ass and the gorgeous blue eyes will be what pays my bills for this place for the next few months – thank you so very much. Just as long as you co-operate and do nothing unexpected in the next ten minutes._

"Ok just give me a moment to snatch up those documents and freshen up again and I'll be right out with you. Now the phone is over there to the right in that little alcove. Help yourself to calling your partner."

One hand was already inside her handbag and unsheathing the protective cap from the needle with its loaded syringe. She had placed it there carefully before she left the house this morning and as her hand curled around it now she felt her pulse quicken. She had to do this right or he would easily overpower her.

She was going to go with a drug in a glass of juice but couldn't be sure he would accept it and now with the phone already in his hand she was glad she had this more definitive intervention ready to take. She didn't want him to say anything to Hutchinson that would incriminate her but also needed him to let him know that he would be detained and late…not to worry. This would buy her more time. More time before Hutchinson set the dogs on her trail.

"Ah Dave?"

"Yeah?"

He turned with the phone in his hand, a friendly look on his face. Such a lovely trusting face. She almost felt bad for what she planned to do to him.

"Look when you phone your partner, Ken, I'd appreciate it if you left my name out of the explanation of where you are and what you're doing. I really prefer to remain discreet about these charity events – and would rather not be connected with being the main woman behind the scene. Could you say that you're helping a woman with car trouble and leave it at that? My husband prefers it that way too… I hope you understand."

She hoped that he went for that and she hadn't raised his suspicions. If he started to say anything too incriminating about her she would just have to dive in with the needle but for now she wanted the lead time and for Hutchinson not to worry.

"Sure I understand. A discreet benefactor. Admirable Suzanne."

If he looked unconvinced it didn't show.

She hovered a little in the background pretending to look for something in her handbag.

He had dialed.

"Hey ya' big blintz its me….Yeah, yeah keep you're shirt on! I was on my way there but got waylaid…no everything's ok…no its fine Hutch will ya' quit with the worrying…I'm not gonna be getting there for maybe forty five - sixty minutes as I stopped to help a woman with her car ...that's right and I'm dropping her back to her place so she get the car arranged to be picked up for a tow ok?...I know, that's me, just an all round good guy….yeah….ok…..well yeah probably best that you just head into Metro and I'll meet you there a bit later on…Good…..Yeah that works…..See you then."

She timed her move just as he was replacing the receiver. She couldn't risk him gasping or shouting into the phone and alerting Hutchinson to what was happening to him.

The lunge and her arcing aim caught him as he turned and for a split second she saw the look of shock jump into those blue eyes.

"What the hell!"

Just a second too late or she would have had the needle in before he turned and saw her. Nonetheless her arm completed the arc and the needle found hard flesh. She took no time in plunging down on the syringe, determined to depress it fully. But his instincts were cop instincts and he recovered quickly from the shock and threw up his arm deflecting her attack, the needle still piercing his firm triceps on his outer arm.

"You bitch! Why? " He ripped the needle from his arm and hurled it against the nearby wall.

She was slumped against the small table where he had pushed her hard and alarm filled her when she saw that he was still alert and moving.

_How long does this shit need for effect to hit?_

He was at the door and ripping it open before she caught up to him.

"No – don't try to leave. You can't drive like this anyway. You'll crash, kill yourself. Give into it Dave."

"Fuck off you bitch!"

He pushed at her clinging hands and stumbled down the grandiose front steps toward the Torino.

"No don't do it. Don't get in that car!"

How was he still moving? Damn Marty. He ensured her that there was enough shit in that syringe to juice up an elephant. This guy's adrenalin was carrying him forward a long way.

'Gotta get….outta here…car….away….gotta go…."

She threw herself on him bodily. If he got control of that car and made it onto the road he would be smashed up in minutes and everything would be over for her. The client wouldn't want him and the police would have her.

"I said….ge….getttt….offffameyabitch….letmeeeee… Got to get to Huttttcccchhh….who are ya….? Whooooo?"

He slapped at her hands and pushed hard into her face his hands not aiming accurately at all. She screamed when he caught her a rough backhand across the mouth and tasted the metallic blood instantly.

"You bastard! You hit me!"

She pushed back savagely at him wrenching at his shirt, buttons flying and her nails scraping his furred chest wall.

His hand fisted in her hair and pulled so hard her eyes watered and it stayed caught there in her hair until she felt the grip gradually lose its strength, the fight in him draining away.

"Shoulddddaaa known….shoulddda figured…you werrrreee no good bitchhhh."

The compact muscular body slumped down the length of her own body and she gradually supported him as he crumpled to the ground. His body came to rest awkwardly on the ground, bent up against the side of his car, one leg buckled under him and the other stretched out on the graveled driveway.

She exhaled with relief that she had managed to contain him and hold him back from getting into a moving car.

_Christ that was close. This was one stubborn man and now as she had seen in the last few minutes, one very angry man. The friendly happy go lucky Dave Starsky who was more than willing to help her in a time of need had snapped quickly into a gnashing wild animal with more verve and pigheaded resilience than she would have thought he would have possessed._

At least now though she had achieved the first goal.

He was in her possession, under her control, unharmed and unmarked – and very ready for the next stage of his adventure in his new life.

Fiona should be arriving any moment and the next step was to secure him, get him inside and prepared for the client and his first viewing.

The unmistakable sound of the crunch of tires on the graveled driveway signalled the arrival colleague. As she waited for Fiona to arrive, she couldn't help herself. With the quickest movement she brought her hand down to touch the dense dark curls and finger the slightly parted lips of the man laying vulnerable at her feet.

"You're mine now until tomorrow Blue Eyes…. yes you are, all mine. No one is going to ruin this one for me. Not even your big protective partner. He can try all he likes, but he can't help you now and probably after my client is through with you, he'll never be able to help you again.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	5. Chapter 5

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

**This chapter contains explicit descriptions and imagery of heterosexual intercourse - non consensual. If the subject matter offends please do not proceed with reading any further.**

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Two thoughts assailed him when he first started to swim towards coherence and the surface of consciousness. At least he tried to make them thoughts – tried desperately to shape them into something that made him tangible. The way he felt now he could not be entirely sure he was even capable of formulating thought such was the detached relationship his body was having with his brain.

The first thing that came to him was that he no memory of tying one on last night.

_"What the shit did I drink? How much did Hutch and I drink? What did Hutch and I do at Huggy's? Were we even at Huggy's? What was last night? Why were hitting it so hard in the middle of the week?"_

He was wrecked – his head was pounding, nausea was threatening and his limbs felt leaden and dead to him – all function was located in his throbbing head where confused images and blurred disjointed snippets swirled about trying to form a single coherent memory.

The second awareness, because it was purely a physical stimulus and not a mental process was that it was not just his head that was throbbing. He had awoken with the most God Almighty hard on. He couldn't see it or touch it but its presence was a pulsating force field between his legs, brushing against his lower abdominals and springing up for attention – any attention.

Not surprisingly he heard the low animal groan and knew it had come from his own tortured throat.

His cock was alive and screaming at him to move his hands down quickly and help it out – to ease some of its steel- like rigidity.

A hangover and a morning hard on of epic proportions. Usually his body from the waist down was unforgiving of what his body from the waist up had gotten into the night before. He was not one for blotting out a rattled brain with a quick round with his own hand or a warm body beside him. As a rule a smashing hangover took precedence over morning horniness so he was nonplussed about the blood supply currently trapped in his groin.

But his hands refused to obey him and as much as he willed to move them down to ease his aching shaft and to massage his tight balls - they stayed stubbornly fixed.

Sensory input slowly increased and the surface to reality became closer.

Dreaming?

Was he dreaming?

No the headache was too real and his aching balls were too sensitive for this to be a dream. And if this was a dream than his subconscious libido was on fire. Maybe he would be better to douse his lower half with a fire extinguisher than to use his closed palm to pull himself off.

But then how come he wasn't taking care of himself? Why wasn't he riding this morning wood with his own hands and bringing himself to a point of climax where he could end this excruciatingly exquisite pain?

And why did he smell like that?

Perfume?

Ah yes! Thank Christ! Finally some relief as his turgid cock was encased in warm hands and his balls cupped teasingly.

Although the hands brought a measure of comfort and further accelerated his libinal pleasure he felt strangely disjointed from their ministrations. He couldn't seem to make them perform they way his cock loved them to perform. They were working far too slowly on his rock hard erection. He needed relief, not an acceleration of his already achingly sweet sexual high.

What the hell were his hands doing?

Piercing light stabbed at his slowly awakening eyes. He forced them open and commanded them to scan the room while the strong almost overpowering waft of sickly sweet perfume filled his nostrils.

The perfume was a new smell, one he could not associate with any female he had bedded with recently.

And then it came to him...the hands holding his swollen member were not his own.

Hard long nails scraping along his inner thighs were not his – and my God they felt so real.

The bed that cushioned his electrified body had a different texture and feel to it than his own so he was obviously not at home.

And the cloying perfume was wafting off a nearby body, whose heat and movements he could now feel and see. A smartly dressed woman with sleek dark hair was sitting beside him, leaning over him, laying her hands all over his body.

This was no dream.

But this was also not his reality. He had just awoken in someone else's world.

_Fuck where am I?_

"So you're waking up now? Good…so good to see your lovely blue eyes Dave. I've been waiting for you to open and them and to join me. I'm here all by myself having a party with your sexy body and you're missing out on it. You like that? Huh? You like how that feels? How I'm touching you? Where my hand is? Of course you like it – or at least your cock does. Don't worry I'm not going to do very much to you …I just wanted to see if your most important part works ok and - oh yes it seems to be in fine working condition."

"What ya' doin'? How'd I get here? Where are we? Why….why can't I move my hands? What have you done to me?"

"So many questions from one very sleepy sexy man. Ssshh. Hush now and lie still and be quiet. There is a lot of heavy substance still running around in your veins so take it easy. You're still coming to and a bit confused. It will take a little while for you to get your head together…but oh it seems as though another part of you is doing just fine."

The sultry laugh that he remembered from yesterday? No a week ago... when was it? That laugh, that voice. The woman, the woman with the dark hair, the one who liked his car.

_Flamenco – Flamenco like passion... "She's at least ten years older than us"... Flirting... In her prime... Hutch – thought so – "the woman is in her prime Starsky."_

"Suzanne? Your name? That's it isn't it? How did I get here with you?"

"Looks like I've got my hands full with you doesn't it Dave? And I mean that in the best possible way. Just look at that….oh yeah. I had a feeling that I'd like what was under those skintight jeans you were wearing. You look great in them Dave, molding your lovely ass and bunched up cock, but even better with them off."

Silky soft hands squeezed the base of his shaft and a long nail ran up the length of him and down the other side. Another hand trailed seductively over his bare hip and snuck under his body to cup and squeeze hard at his naked buttock.

_Running late. She was running late and her car was …..on the side of the road. Stopped to help her. Sick kids…phone Hutch, tell him I'll be late._

Pain..._Sharp stinging pain. Top of arm. _Now just a dull ache like a muscular pain in the outer part of his arm. His tried to turn, twisting his head to look down at the arm almost expecting to still see the syringe protruding from his flesh. But there was nothing there.

_ "Let go of me Bitch!" The striking of his hand across her painted lips. _

His vision was clear now and he saw it. Her pouty mouth was even more full and fleshy with the bottom lip swollen and slightly bruised – the small cut, devoid of blood now – left by his own hand.

And then it all came back to him in one rush - memory dowsed him in its full wave and quickly receded. It left behind a wash of clear perspective of the present, the nightmarish situation he now found himself to be in.

He had been set up and been played for a fool.

She had paraded as a society woman, this female trickster, this vamp sitting beside him now. She had laid the perfect trap for him and he had walked right on into it.

Sucker punched big time. He cursed his inherent weakness for a "Dame in Distress" scenario.

Naked. Completely naked. Restrained. His hands could not answer his burning need to ease his pounding erection because they were not free. He was tied to the bed, his wrists and ankles firmly bound, his body still metabolising the drug she had pumped into him. He was lying totally exposed before this woman who looked down upon him with almost voracious satisfaction, licking at her swollen lower lip - salivating over her fallen prey.

How could he have allowed this to happen to him? Why hadn't he suspected her reappearance on the street this morning? Waiting for him. She had been waiting for him the whole time.

_Are you completely braindead Starsky? _He kicked himself mentally in his already sore head and then grimaced at his next most immediate thought.

_Hutch will be so damned pissed off with me!_

"You fuckin', lyin' bitch. Get ya' hands offa me. Don' wanncha touchin' me with ya filthy hands. Go way – leave me. Lemme get up….untie me…untie me ya' bitch. Gotta getta outta here…. ….what have ya' done to me? Who are you?"

"Well let's put it this way Dave, you won't be getting to work this morning and I certainly won't be visiting any damn children's hospital. And on top of that, the only 'star' that I will be rubbing shoulders with today won't be a sport's star, but ….one very sexy, angry cop. The only star I need today. My lucky star. Because you Dave, you're going to make me a little richer than I was yesterday. And, by you making me a little bit richer Dave - well, that in my book makes you a star."

"Why the hell would ya' want me? Do ya' even know who I am? I think you've got the wrong man lady. What interest could ya' have with me? Unless... is someone paying you to take me out - one of our old cases? Christ which case?"

"Oh now you're selling yourself short Dave. You have no idea of your true value – what you're worth. And of course I know who you are. I know all about you. 'Detective Starsky' – from the city police. Undercover cop with your undercover handsome partner. You and your blond friend, Hutchinson – or what is it that you call him... 'Hutch'? Hutch, I like that name. Has a solid reliable ring to it doesn't it? And I'm sure he'd reliable. Good friends, you told me so this morning didn't you? "

She couldn't help but notice how his already tight body tensed even more at the mention of his partner's name and she smiled with curiosity at the sudden flagging of his hard erection as his dark blue eyes darkened and his face twisted up at her. With perverse satisfaction she was distracted by his fisting hands, yanking violently at their ties and rattling the headboard. She wouldn't have guessed at the latent aggression hidden behind his friendly socialeable exterior and considered it smart that she had ensured she had paid extra attention when securing him.

"What do you mean you know Hutch? If you've touched him….have you fuckin' got Hutch somewhere here too? Have you? What've you done with him? Tell me now lady!"

"Oh relax for God's Sake. Look what you've done to yourself. You've gone all limp on me. I like you so much better when you're rock solid. You were so very hard and I was so close to getting you to come too...Remarkable really considering that you're bombed out on drugs and you can still get it up so powerfully for me. I obviously haven't lost my touch have I?"

"Filthy slut, get ya hands offa me. Where is Hutch? Is he here too? Have you hurt him? Is this some sort of way of getting at me?"

"Oh you've got it all wrong Detective…Mr. Undercover Cop. You see, you're not the only one who can play at being undercover. You and your flashy red car and your tight jeans and leather jacket. Yes – I wouldn't have picked you as a cop when I first laid eyes on you outside that restaurant last week. But then you didn't pick me as being undercover either did you Dave – or should I call you Starsky? See, I'm every bit if not better then you at playing the undercover game. Those poor little sick children just waiting, waiting for some fun…you idiot! This has nothing to do with your partner Dave so you needn't worry about his pretty blond head being touched. But …. then I guess he _will_ be going through some harrowing times soon. When he realizes that you've been taken again. And so soon…so soon after those horrible evil men with the black robes took you and tried to sacrifice your beautiful body. Poor Hutch….he may not be getting hurt directly by us, but let me assure you, he will be hurting and hurting a lot when he realizes that he has let it happen to you again. We took you right out of his very secure and safe picture - just snatched you away from him! So easy. In the end it was so very easy. Marty said it wouldn't be….but it all comes down to female persuasion doesn't it Dave?"

"Marcus…you're talking about Marcus. How do you know about him? Who are you? What's your real name? Are you one of them? One of the cult?"

"Lay off the Detective routine will you. You're not playing cop with me, and I'm not the one who has to answer the questions so shut your mouth. I have a limited window of opportunity here Honey. My…. colleague - has gone to run a errand for us both and I simply thought that in her absence I might have the chance to give you a little trial run. Our clients are very particular – and the client who is paying me big money for you will need to know that you are a fit and healthy specimen. Some of the druggies and dropouts we get are useless when it comes down to performing for their new owners. While you were starting to wake up I was having so much fun with your hot body that I thought that at any moment you were going to cream all over my nice designer suit. Perhaps we can finish it now before she gets back. I consider myself holding temporary owner's rights, which entitles me to - certain privileges. Now where were we before you started getting all standoffish?"

"I told you to get your hands offa me. You might have managed to get me aroused when I was out of it, but now I'm awake – Honey – I'm not in the mood for your games or you. I'm not performin' for you like some fuckin' toy boy so take your hands and use them to untie me. I'm a police officer and you have committed – are committing a major felony – just let me go, give me my clothes and we can talk about this. Now – now Suzanne. It's only a matter of time before my partner tracks me down. Remember I called him before you hit me with that freakin' needle. He's met you too – he'll trace you down."

"That drug has really played havoc with your detecting skills – Detective. Headache bad? Bet it is. It's a mean little number isn't it? Don't worry I'll be giving you some more in a moment so that bad headache will be gone in no time and so too will all of your confused thoughts. Sure you called your partner. I wanted you to – so that he didn't send that black and white looking for you that is always parked outside your apartment. We know all about how he has you under twenty four-hour protection Dave. But you didn't tell your partner anything that will help him find you. You never mentioned Suzanne did you? You never said my name as I asked you not to. And yes he will be looking for you…even by now he will be looking for you…but we've done our homework on you Dave. We're a good undercover team, my colleagues and I. Right now your precious Torino is parked somewhere waiting to be found and it will lead your partner on a trail that is in the totally opposite direction to where you'll be going. Poor Detective Hutchinson and his other cop buddies will be busy hunting for you in all the wrong places – the Simon Marcus places. So no – I'm sorry to tell you Dave, but there will be no one bursting in here to disturb us, except perhaps my colleague Fiona."

Her half laugh was forced as she mentioned her friend's name and she turned to the door as she said it, as though she almost expected the woman to materialise and break up her private party.

"It's just us Dave. Just us. No one else to come and save you from all the excitement that lies ahead of you. There is so much in store for you…. and you know what Dave? The time you'll spend here with me is so short really but believe me when I tell you, it is the very best of the time that you will have for a long long while. You would be smart to just lie back and enjoy it while you can Honey. Like I said…. I only have a little time left with you by myself…and I am so tired after all the worry of getting you this morning. So you have to let me have some reward and I aim to claim it."

She moved her slim lithe body from its sitting position of the side of the bed to stretch out fully beside him. The bed was large and there was ample room for the two of them, but she pressed her fully clothed body up against his naked form. A silken stocking foot arched high above his shin, descended elegantly coming to land on his lower bare leg. Her slim arched foot ran down the sharp plane of his lower leg, rubbing back and forth over his dark hairs. The hands that had been so crudely centered around his groin area now found their way up to his neck and face, petting and stroking – tracing his thick eyebrows and lips, pushing fingers into his firmly closed mouth.

"Open your mouth for me Dave...open up. My fingers want to play inside your wet warm mouth. Just how I want your fingers to play inside my wet warm pussy...but not just yet. Soon though. Let me in. I want to imagine those are your fingers inside me. So warm and wet."

He obstinately held his mouth closed but when she moved her other hand quickly to squeeze hard at his balls and he opened his mouth to yelp out a stifled groan she quickly plunged them into the open space.

"Don't try and bite me Dave...remember you're tied up and I can do a lot of damage down her with my other hand. You bite me and I'll bite you...it won't be nice for either of us but it'll hurt you a hell of a lot more than me. So there...yes like that. Good boy, just let me explore inside your mouth while you think about what you could be doing to me with your own fingers. Oh yes, are you thinking?"

The hardened painted nails then left his mouth and trailed their dampness down his neck and onto the dark pelt of chest hair where she spent time making larger and larger whorls on his pectorals and mid abdominals. She spent considerable time on the dark line of hair that ran down his midline to his umbilicus, pausing to dip into his naval before following the line of hair further down where it reformed as a lighter line that descended into his coarser pubic hair.

"Just let me touch you and make you feel good Dave. I can make you feel soooo good. I want to see how you respond to me. Let me see what your body can do for me. Show me what your body can do for me Dave – see what I can make your body do for me. I'm a little older than you…. I know you know that…but with age comes experience. I can make my hands make your body come alive, even when you refuse to let yourself enjoy me. Just watch, relax, and let me do it for you Dave. "

"Stop it Suzanne. Please…just stop it. Get off the bed and leave me now. You're already in trouble. Take this no- further- Oh Christ! Please sto….stop."

"But I can't stop Dave and why should I when it's plain to see how much your body is loving me doing what I'd doing to it. Look at it… you're already hard again and I haven't even touched you ….. there. There. Do you want me to touch you there now Dave? I know you do. I know you really want my hands to …. Oh yes… there it is … so beautiful, God you are so sexy. All for me Dave. No…stop talking, stop struggling. You want it, you want me. I know just how to touch a man Dave …. Just like that…oh yeah. Good isn't it. Hard, hard, harder – I can feel the blood rushing into your cock, your beautiful cock."

"PLEASE NO! Suzanne... LEAVE ME!"

"Name's not Suzanne. Not Suzanne. But I don't need you to say my name. It's enough to be able to lie here and push my body into yours and say your name, touching you all the time. I don't need to even take my clothes off and I'm feeling you all over me Dave. I'm wet for you now – so wet just looking at you, touching you. I could taste you too – would you like that Dave. Want to feel me put my mouth over your cock, suck you in…I'm good at it? Oh God you're like a rock…just one lick of my tongue and I swear you'll spray your beautiful come all over me. Your balls are so tight….full for me – all for me Dave?"

"Fuckin' no…. no… oh God….my head…my….."

His groans were beyond guttural and wretched and he succumbed to just letting them all out, letting the deep throated sighs and moans reverberate about the room in an effort to wall off his physical responses to her sexual, sensual, seductive ministrations. Sweat sheened on his nakedness and his teeth brought blood to his lip as he bit down hard on the anguish that she was driving him to - to utter and delirious physiological fulfillment. If he didn't let himself come soon he would split in half. His cock was a molten piece of volcanic rock, burning and smouldering, fluid and malleable and yet solid and as thick as alpine ice.

"You want to explode don't you? Your head and your cock? All of you? You're fighting this ….why Dave? Why fight this? You can't fight it – in the end your body will take what it wants and ….."

He hated this woman, hated himself for feeling like this.

He wanted this woman, wanted himself to go on feeling like this.

So …so… trapped and yet so utterly free. His body was captive and his soul was a flying spirit .

And then her dark head bowed down, and the painted bruised mouth swallowed him whole. His back arched and his wrists and ankles strained viscously in their binds as he fought the rising climax… the crest of pure exquisite pain was engulfing him now and he tried again to verbalize against it. Words were all he had now to fight her with as his body was taken from him completely. Such was the power of her total possession of him. As her mouth, lips and tongue sucked and lapped at his swollen full cock, and licked at his pearly white pre-cum, he used his own oral munitions to attack.

"Bitch – whore, fuckin' bitch. Filthy whore. Don't want your filthy mouth bitch. Don't want your filthy hands."

But too late…. Of course his body had decided to betray him and if her mouth was not latched hard onto his wanton thrusting shaft, he was certain that she would laugh in mockery at his last helpless, hopeless stand. Even the harsh, dirty insults he spat at her were conspiring to add to the overall sexual showdown being played out between the two of them.

Even to his own ears his depraved cries sounded more like a climatic crescendo than any attempt at earnest resistance.

As his body bucked in its final throes he managed at least to withhold the one last piece of proof that her sexual prowess had won through. He fought hard but held it back. She would not hear it. For that matter he would not let himself hear it. God knows he was already disgusted enough with his own display of unleashed sexual abandon. The scream that clawed up into his throat to surpass even the loudest groans of carnal pleasure stayed buried in his chest. He bit it back, savagely refusing to let it out. Panting, gasping, cringing at himself and his own weakness he wondered if a suppressed scream could cause such intense pressure in one's chest. Or was the pressure caused by the emotional stress of realizing that he was truly at the mercy of this woman and her cohorts?

He had peaked and now he was rapidly descending , being dropped back into sharp edged reality. The pressure inside his head and chest filled as quickly as the pressure in his groin drained completely away.

Mind over body now.

Brain over cock.

Thought over lust.

This woman has just forced him to experience untold physiological pleasure. Sweet torture, intensely sweet, but torture nonetheless.

The residual effects of the drug and the post climatic somnolence threatened to once more engulf him. He fought hard to pay attention to her as she stood up now, almost wantonly wiping her mouth with a corner of a bed sheet and turning to the sound outside of the room. There was a distinctive sound of an outer door opening and closing and a voice calling.

"Camilla? Camilla? I'm back. I got rid of it…drove it to where you said. No one saw me or paid attention. Camilla! Where the hell are you?"

She took the sheet she had been using to wipe her mouth and face and draped it strategically over his naked lower torso and legs.

"See Dave? It's hard to fight against a woman of experience. Even when you are as tough and resilient as you'd like to think you are. I enjoyed that, enjoyed you. And, I haven't enjoyed anyone in quite a while. It will be a shame to have to hand you over. But then, I am a whore when it comes to money, just like men are whores when it comes to their cocks getting pleasured. My colleague is here. I have to end our little pleasure time. Maybe next time you might consider what you would like to do with me - how you might choose to use my body. It can give you pleasure just like I took pleasure from using yours...think about it. You'll have a lot of time to think."

She cut off her sensual words carefully and timed her last more neutral phrases to reach the ears of anyone who might be listening at the door as she turned fully toward it. She was ready for it when it happened. The entrance of someone else.

The door swung open to reveal a second woman whom he hadn't yet seen – or had he? In his current state he couldn't be sure of anything. He was drifting now, his headache finally abating and his spent body flagging rapidly. The force of the sexual onslaught had taken a greater toll on him than an alleyway brawl with two or three thugs. His adrenalin level was zero and post climatic processes were working to sedate him.

Passively now he lay and tried to absorb the situation playing out in front of him. He needed to compute and to analyse.

The body language and posture of the new woman suggested she was not happy with ….Suzanne….Camilla?

"I thought he was out to it?"

"He was… he started to come to."

"Oh… and the reason he looks like he has just run a marathon and you look like you've just been fucked senseless?"

"Don't be so crude Fee…it makes you sound like some street tart. Must everything come down to your insatiable thirst for sex?"

"No only when I can clearly see that you are lying to me and that you have just had your own fill of sex with our new …. acquisition."

"Shut your mouth for God's sake. Don't talk in front of him. He's alert and aware enough now to take in everything we're saying."

"Yeah I'm damn sure he is. That is why you look like you've just had the ride of your life. I'm out there doing the grunt work while you're back here lounging on the bed with lover boy getting to savor all that he has to offer. Well I'm pissed off with this arrangement. Next time you move the freaking car and I'll stay back and play with the talent. You knew I was interested in this one in particular – he was after all - my find. I'm the one who brought him to your attention. "

His tongue was thick and his focus was skewed and everything was coming from a distance, voices distorted and reality smudged so badly into almost dream quality that he grappled to make a coherent utterance. When he spoke now he was no longer sure if he was really speaking or if the thoughts were remaining trapped inside his head.

Two faces turned toward him now as he mouth formulated words so he guessed that they must be hearing him say something.

"So what's the game ladies? Whadda ya' want? Somethin' to do with a case? Are you … why are you doin' this? Ya' mentioned money? Who's payin' ya? Why me?

Was he making any headway with loosening the bonds on his wrists and ankles? He had been laboriously working away at them while the two women were preoccupied with each other.

"Fee its time we doped him up again. We need to meet Marty in fifteen minutes to go through our plan of action and to see what he has on his surveillance of Hutchinson. We can't leave him awake or even drowsy. He has to be put back under again."

Camilla opened the small bar fridge that sat near the doorway and extracted another filled syringe and needle and a small bottle of juice and a plastic straw."

"This is only half the dose of the last one. He won't need as much this time to put him under for a couple of hours. But first we need to get him to drink something."

She moved over closer to the bed again and offered the bottle to the drowsy man.

"Dave you need to drink. Here let us help you sit up a little to take some juice. You must have it. You think your headache was bad this time you woke – wait till you wake next time. Here take the straw and drink. Sugar and water, you need it."

He offered no resistance already craving hydration and knowing that without it he would be in big trouble. Whatever was in front of him he needed to keep his brain ticking over and his body in some sort of shape to deal with the demands that would be placed upon him.

With his head raised enough to swallow, Starsky sucked hard and long at the drink and didn't pause until she pulled the bottle back from him.

"Steady. Slow. Too much and you'll be sick. There. A little more. Good. Now, it's time for you to go back to sleep. Next time you wake we'll have Marty here and we can get you up, you can use the bathroom and get some food down. We need you in good condition – healthy and fit by the time we deliver you. But for now…."

She drew the needle forward and released the small amount of air trapped in the syringe as she advanced toward him. She gently bunched up his firm thigh muscle in one hand as she positioned the needle adroitly in the other. Over the past months she had become quite the Nurse with her needle administering technique but not many patients had been as tantalising to tend to as this one.

"Wait! Nooo…think 'bout whatcha doin'…. so stupid. Stop it now and you'll …maybe you'll stay outta jail…. Such a waste of ya' life…both of ya'. Think 'bout what ya' doin here… is it worth it?"

Fee laughed loudly and walked closer to the curly haired prisoner. Daringly she lifted the light covering of the sheet that Camilla had thrown quickly over his unclothed body. She whistled softly as she appreciated the view of the pure masculine form underneath the flimsy piece of fabric.

"Oh… I don't know. Do you think its worth it Camilla? A whole lot of money and to get to enjoy this pretty package as well? By the look on her face when I came in Dave I'd have to say that my friend certainly thinks what we're doing with you is worth it. As for me…. Well let's say I'll get back to you on that one when you next wake up. Give him the needle Camilla. I don't even need him conscious to appreciate this hot piece of ass."


	6. Chapter 6

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 6**

* * *

_No, I'm not going to do this. Not going to let myself lose it here ….. leave the phone, leave it alone. He'll be here any minute and I'll only end up getting his wrath for following him up when he said he was going to be late anyway._

_Might as well step out …. Walk out to the garage, see if he's driven in and perhaps just walked down to the corner on a whim to pick up some early lunch. Yeah…that's probably what he did anyway. Starsky and his stomach. That's all it will be. He'll be getting himself a load of greasy food and will be walking through those doors any moment._

Pushing back from the desk he tossed the file he'd only been half looking at back in the tray and walked out the squad room doors.

Five minutes later he was back. The lines on his forehead, just a little deeper than they had been before he left the room to walk to the precinct garage. To walk to the garage where he found no evidence of Starsky's Torino parked in the lot. So much for the theory of his partner walking down the block to get an early lunch before coming into the squad room.

"Hey, anyone hear my phone ring while I slipped out just then?"

A few head shakes and mumbles from men hunkered over their own desks told him what he had expected.

No. Nothing. But the faces of the men never looked up to meet his eyes. He understood already that the men were feeling his tension too and were avoiding him. After all what could they say to him to make his tension ease?

Eleven thirty, so said the big-faced clock on the squad room wall. He had been looking at the clock on and off for the past hour. Even an hour ago the time it registered had caused him concern.

Hutch chewed the inside of his mouth and stared hard at the phone. He then looked up and stared hard at the door to Dobey's office, then stared hard through the glass windows out into the hallway.

Feeling eyes upon him he looked up to find that the door to Dobey's office had opened and that his Captain was staring hard at him.

He had the perverse inclination to crack a joke about there being a whole lot of staring going on in this room right now. Then the misplaced perversity died on his lips - and he simply stared back at his Captain some more. Dobey knew what he wanted - what he needed to do right now.

The big black man raised his eyebrows, blew out some breath and pointed his pencil directly at Hutch's face.

"Ok…just go will you. Get out of here and go see where he might have gotten waylaid. I can feel you pacing around out here from inside my office and you know damn well you're not going to achieve anything here until you satisfy your worries. But I'm telling you Hutchinson – if Starsky is hanging out somewhere chowing down food or getting his damn car checked out in departmental time, I'll have his ass chewed out big time when he gets back in. You make sure you tell him that for me. Now get outta here and go look for him."

Hutch smiled his most appreciative smile.

"Thanks for that Captain. I'll make sure he gets what his due for – and don't worry , I'll be also giving him a piece of my mind for not letting me know his moves. He was supposed to be back here after he helped some woman with a broken down vehicle."

"Hmmph! That's what I'm afraid of …. I've got a feeling that the woman he's helped is young, attractive and just Starsky's type."

Dobey turned back into his office not wanting his blond Detective to see the trace of unease that ran across his own face. Like Hutch, the memory of Simon Marcus' stealthy kidnapping of David Starsky was still too fresh.

But best not to let Hutchinson see that. God knew the man was already thinking the worst.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

An hour and a half later when he received a patch through to his desk phone from Hutchinson's car, he was not surprised to hear the rapid escalation of fear in the other man's voice. Dobey's stomach dropped. Had he half expected something like this to happen when he first realized that Starsky was late in arriving this morning? When the two of them hadn't come into the station together as they had been since Starsky's ordeal?

_Surely not again. Surely._

But sweat was already beading on his furrowed brow as he took in Hutchinson's words.

"I talked to the black and white unit outside his apartment – nothing. No one has been back since Starsky left at his usual time this morning. Huggy's heard nothing, he's not been down at Merle's following up on his car problems from last week. No sign that he's been back to my place since I left either."

Dobey heard the sharp intake of breath as Hutchinson continued on delivering a rapid volley of information.

"He rang me at ….what was it... near enough to eight, said he'd be back in at the station up to an hour after the call. Even allowing for problems with arranging the tow for the woman, that would mean he's still been missing or unaccounted for ...hell, for over two hours."

"Hutch that's not a very long time. Come on now you know that." But even to his own ears Dobey knew that his playing down of the issue sounded ineffectual.

"Sure. In the course of life it isn't. On any normal day, during any normal period of time in Starsky's life I'd agree. But not now, not with how he knows I 'm feeling about …..what's happened to him recently. He wouldn't allow me to worry. That's why he was on to me straight away this morning. He knows I'm - he knows how on edge I am with this stuff, this threat. With that sick bastard. "

"And he gave you no name, no lead of this woman he was helping this morning?"

"No – and stupidly I didn't even press him for something more than just accepting that he said that he had wanted to help a woman with her car. Hell, what a hopeless cop I am, what a useless partner I've become. Jumping at shadows all week, my gun ready to take out any poor bastard that dares to look our way on the street or in a bar, and then - then when Starsky phones to tell me something that's obviously suspicious , I just. …Damn it Captain I just let it go right by me."

"Hutch it was hardly suspicious. He's a cop and if he encounters a woman stuck on the side of the road in the early morning traffic of course he's going to offer his assistance. Now put it into perspective – nothing untoward has happened yet."

"Except he hasn't shown up at work and he hasn't phoned me to let me know why… and he's very late and very ...really late. "

He couldn't say the word. Didn't want to voice the word.

_He's missing. Missing._

"Alright then. Your next move?"

"I'm going to come back in to the station and get on the phone - hit every tow shop in a ten mile radius of Starsky's and my place – given that he was on his way to my place when he came across her. See if any of them have a request in for a tow of a woman and her dead car this morning. I know that is one long shot but…. Christ I didn't even ask a thing about her or her car. All I know is that it was supposedly a woman. I imagine she is ...around our age. No, he didn't even tell me anything about her age. Never said a thing about her really."

_Why the fuck didn't I ask him? Why didn't I ask him a single question about who he was helping?_

"Well do that. I'll get onto all the Black and White units in the blocks around your apartments and here. See if anyone has got a visual on his Torino."

"Thanks Captain. It's after midday already. If I haven't got a lead of any description by mid afternoon…."

"We'll talk about it then Hutch. Just try to stay calm ok? Calm. Talk to me again in an hour or so unless I get back to you. Stay near your car radio."

Dobey dropped the phone back down and didn't break his fixed gaze at it for another moment.

No not again. Starsky couldn't have been taken again.

There had to be some simple explanation for him not showing up as planned. Starsky was notorious for bad, hare brained, and disruptive scenes during work time commitment. Number one in the unreliability stakes.

Please God, let this just be one more example of such Starsky whimsical behavior – of course it would be. At any time in the next hour or so he wanted to think that the often unpredictable and laid back dark haired Detective would saunter into the squad room with a fresh bag of donuts and a lopsided smile – full of excuses for his tardiness.

Of course he would.

Still - it wouldn't hurt thought Dobey, no it wouldn't hurt at all really. He would still put out an alert through Communications for all units in the immediate vicinity to be on the lookout for a red and white Torino with Starsky's number plate on it.

After all…. it would help to put Hutch's mind at rest.

He tried to deny that it had anything to do with allaying his own fears.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH 

"So this is how it sits right now. Listen up Marty as in the next twenty-four hours Fee and I are going to need your assistance with helping us to get this guy up, showered and fed. We need to make sure he is kept in prime condition for the handover and keeping him restrained permanently is not going to be good for him. So - well we need you here to help us cover him when we get him up and moving."

"Thought my job was out here covering the other half of the team - watching Hutchinson and what his unit gets up to once he is found to be missing."

"I know what I asked you to do Marty...but, well this guy is headstrong. I'm not entirely sure what he'll do when we release his restraints - even with a gun pointed at him. Just for now can you come in? The rest of the time I want you on the blond's tail. I want to know what he's doing, where's he's looking. If we've planned this well and figured right, then he'll spend the next couple of days upending every available lead that is still out there on Simon Marcus. Just don't let him make you whatever you do – I'm counting on you Marty."

"Camilla, cut the shit Baby, don't tell me my job ok? I've been a private Dick long before you left your pretty society home and ditched your poor bastard of a husband. After all it was me you have to thank for digging up the dirt on him in the first place to get you that nice fat divorce settlement. Ever think that you might need to be a bit more grateful to your right hand man."

"You get paid handsomely Marty...in more ways than one. You know that and I know that."

"You know that's not what I mean Baby. I'm tired of being shoved in the background while you play Queen Bee over procuring these poor lost souls for your psycho client. Let's get together tonight Baby…we haven't shared an evening in so long. Let's have some good food, some fine wine, get naked."

"Now is not the time Marty. Let's not start this shit again ok? I'm tired of hearing you whine about not getting enough of me. This deal is a big one – this latest guy is going to score us big money. So all I'm asking is for you to watch his friend, and be here to help me when we release him to mobilize. Can you get here in say three hours? By then he'll be awake again and he'll need to eat and use the bathroom. "

"Yeah, alright. I'll be there. I've been trailing Hutchinson all over his local neighborhood for the past hour or more. He's headed back to his Station now."

"And? How does he look?"

"Like suddenly he's getting a bad feeling that his partner might have gone missing again. Poor bastard , he's going to look a hell of a lot worse when he gets the call about the Torino. "

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SH

"Anything on the Tow Companies?"

"Zilch. I called maybe ten or so of the main companies in the area – and it's been a quiet morning according to them. Couple of accidents and illegal parking tows but only five or so breakdowns. The breakdowns don't involve a woman by herself – either families, businessmen or elderly people. One woman but she was with her boyfriend. I'll keep one of the admin staff on it though. They can keep calling around, widening the periphery of the search - but that wouldn't make sense. It would have to be in our immediate area if Starsky came across her on route to pick me up."

"Alright then. I'll widen the search for the Torino. I'll extend the search request to cover this whole side of town."

Dobey turned back to his office and Hutch looked at the clock.

One o'clock.

The other officers at their desks threw a glance at the clock or their watches also. It was getting harder for him to make excuses for the position of the clock's hands in relation to Starsky's lack of contact. A lack of contact that would normally not be an issue – certainly not to any of the other officers in the unit. Detectives in particular were known for keeping flexible hours and punching the clock in anything but a regular rhythm especially if they'd been doing back-to-back shifts. But since the drama of Simon Marcus everyone knew that Hutchinson had his partner on a short leash and that any significant variance of Starsky's routine would be sure to rattle him.

The room was unusually quiet; the normal background banter of officer to officer was subdued. Hutch looked at the other men's faces all looking at him. He looked down quickly at the next number he was about to try. Better not to see in their eyes what he knew was there.

The mood in the squad room was heavy with collective concern that one of their own might again be in jeopardy.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

He was waking again.

This time he assimilated his surroundings more quickly and recalled some of what had gone on the last time he had awakened. It made it easier to get his bearings in less time. Inwardly he cringed at the memory of his own body's betrayal and flushed as he felt the residual effects of the mammoth orgasm he had unleashed with the helping hands of Camilla. He still felt as though his groin was tingling and his balls were tight, the base behavior of his animal instinct ruling over his frontal lobe.

_Tied to a freakin' bed and in God knows how much trouble and all I could think of was getting that incredible hard on relieved._

Truly, he felt more than a little disgusted in himself. If she tried it on again with him he would strive for greater self control.

_Yeah sure Starsky! She'll lay one of those smooth soft hands on your dick and you'll be on fire in moments._

His head was clearer this time – well at least the headache was not as bad, but his arms and legs were starting to scream in protest at the extended amount of time they had been restrained – stretched and pulled into what was now a cramping position.

At least he was covered - partially at least. A sheet lay across his lower body.

It was still light – daylight still strong enough to permeate the thick curtain covering the window.

He needed to piss and soon.

He was also thirsty and hungry.

But totally unscathed. …Unless he counted in his pride. Pride at being done over like some cheap whore by that woman, Suzanne. No Camilla. That was her name.

And the other one? Fee. She had been called Fee he remembered. And she had not been happy with Camilla.

As he was trying to recall more of their last conversation in front of him before he had been once more dispatched to unconsciousness, the woman called Fee entered the room.

"Oh what perfect timing! You're awake for me. And here I was thinking I'd have to come visit a sleeping male beauty."

She sidled up to the bed and not unlike the other woman took little time in crowding into his personal space.

She was different to the other one though. Quite different. Even in his drug hazed state he could sense it. And it was more than just the differences in presentation, voice, and stature – it was her personality. This one was more casual, less intense, less predatory, less threatening. He felt more at ease with her, as at ease as any man could feel pinioned down and tied to a bed naked in front of a female stranger. A stranger who had been partly responsible at least in kidnapping him and putting him in this position.

"You're Fee? That's your name isn't it? "

"Wow! So you even know my name…Camilla is right. You are a hard one to knock down with that drug. Still got your mind straight enough to remember stuff you've heard. Hmmm…well than David, can you remember me saying before than that I wanted to have some personal time with you too? Camilla had her fun before while I was….taking care of a few things for you. We've still got a bit of time before Marty arrives to help us get you up so why don't you and I start to get acquainted Sugar?"

For the second time in one day he felt the light touch and caress of a strange female hand wandering over his torso and pushing long nailed fingers through his chest hair.

Who were these women? What were they after in him? Was he brought here to be some sort of sex toy for them? What the shit! Surely they could have picked a better candidate than a cop for God's sake!

"Look Fee….I don't know what you and your friend want, but I have to say that you're messing around with me is not a very smart idea. I'm a cop. A cop. You just don't go around drugging cops and locking them in a bedroom without realizing that you're asking for trouble here. How about you tell me what you're up to, you and your friend?"

"Oh David, don't bother asking me any questions. I'm only here to have a little fun with you before we have to hand you over."

"Hand me over? Hand me over to whom? So you two are just the intermediaries? What have you gotten yourselves mixed up in? It's a serious offence Fee to abduct a police officer and to hold him against his will. Why don't you think about the rest of your life and how this ….thing…whatever it is you're involved with is going to stuff it up. It seems to me Fee, that the other woman, Camilla – ah your boss -"

"Camilla is not my boss! No one tells me what to do."

"No? Well when she was talking to me before she... ah... how best to phrase this? Well she spoke kinda' like you were under her, like she called the shots."

"Don't try that tactic on me Sweetie. I know you just want to drive a wedge between us, but it won't work. I do what I want, always have and always will. No one will tell me what to do, especially Camilla."

"So that's why you were out doing the hard graft earlier and she was back here - with me?"

"No we divide out jobs up evenly. I like doing the things I have to do in this outfit. Like spying on you sexy man. Been watching you for days now. Know all about you and your partner. Man he is one hot stud too. In fact I feel bad admitting this to you David, but it was your friend that caught my eye in the first place."

"Fee, my partner, the man you are talking about. You must know after watching us that he will already be lookin' for me, piecin' things together.…"

"There isn't that much to piece together David. And you're right, that's why we are being extra careful with you lover boy. Taking no chances and covering our tracks. No one is going to come get us - or you. No one will find you."

She continued to stroke at his chest and he gritted his teeth as she brought her hands down lower toward his already semi aroused cock.

Christ had these women trained as professionals... or were these drugs they were pumping into him full of sex hormones?

"Then you underestimate my partner. He's one determined and relentless man. Gets pissed off big time with me if I don't clock in with him regularly."

"Oh we know all about that David. We know he'll be looking hard for you. And why he will be so worried. There's not much we don't know. But he'll be looking in all the wrong places. We've got that sorted. I took care of it this morning while you were sleeping – and, having fun with Camilla."

"Took care of what?"

But Fee chose to totally ignore his question.

"So let's see, do you want to compare how I perform in getting you excited with how Camilla managed you? I've got some nice little moves that I would just love to show you. Do you know I spotted you first? Saw that hot tight ass of yours poking out from under that car's hood. Hmmm….it is such a lovely tight ass."

Already her hands were pushing beneath his body to find the hard round mounds of muscled flesh and she began squeezing each buttock with just the right amount of pressure. Her touch was almost therapeutic pressure and it relieved the deadened sensation of having been forced to lie inert and stabilised in one position for so long. Despite himself Starsky felt himself almost melting into the kneading hands.

"See told you you'd like what I can do…now what's under this sheet here for me to play with….?"

"FEE!"

"Oh Damn…."

"Fee I thought I told you not to come in here and start up with your party tricks with him."

"Oh but it's just fine for you to put your hands all over him whenever you want is that right? Why can't I have some fun myself?"

"Get up off the bed. Move away from him now. Marty's here and we're going to get him up."

Starsky watched as the light that had burned bright in Fee's eyes a moment ago died out. A coldness replaced the teasing flickering that had just been sizing up his bound body. He made a point of holding her gaze to let her see that he had not missed the one -up manship that had just taken place.

As Camilla approached the bed Starsky smirked up at her.

"Looks like I was right after all. You are the boss lady aren't you? Or think that you are? Used to having everyone jump to your attention?"

"Shut up. No one asked for you to speak or to add your opinion. Fee knows what needs to be done."

Fee had withdrawn to the side of the room giving Camilla a long slow look but said nothing more.

A man walked into the room and looked directly at Starsky.

He was not overly big but he was rangy and solid, older than Starsky by at least fifteen years with short close cropped hair and a weathered face. Starsky had no doubt that the man had seen some action in his day…perhaps ex military? Something in the way he moved and scanned the room brought recollections of other servicemen he had known in his years in the army.

"I'm Martin. I'm here to make sure you don't try to escape when we get you up. You need to move around a bit, get some food into you, circulate your limbs. You'll want to use the bathroom no doubt. I'm going to untie you now…put these cuffs on you instead while we get you into the john and to wash up."

"So what? This going to be a regular little activity we share together Martin? Or am I getting the message right here that I'm just passin' through here on my way to someplace else?"

"Marty doesn't answer questions David, and you don't ask them." Camilla interjected into the two men's introductory conversation.

"Oh of course. I forgot. You're the boss lady right. Got it. Marty here and ummm…your little offsider Fee, they're just the hired help. Got it."

Camilla narrowed her heavily darkened eyes at him and scowled.

"Go ahead Marty. Get him to move. David, as you can see, I've got your own gun leveled at you so if you try anything – "

Marty untied one hand and secured a cuff onto the free wrist before he freed the other and secured them together in front of Starsky's body. The bare fingers with their strip of paler skin caught Starsky's eyes and he rubbed his other fingers over the ringless ones. Looking up he saw Camilla watching him intently.

"You know somethin' ? I like my rings. I've grown very attached to them over the years."

"We needed them. You've got more to worry about."

"Maybe ya' don't know how _much _I like my rings. I wouldn't like to think you'd just thrown them away."

" Put it this way David, They'll be in safe hands, so don't you worry about your precious rings."

Starsky nodded. That just about told him what he needed to know. His rings were being used to prove he was being held.

_Don't worry Hutch...I'll get out of this shit somehow._

But if he had the rings by now, he knew Hutch would be doing nothing but worrying.

Marty freed his ankles but left his legs free to walk.

He directed him to sit up and move to the side of the bed.

"Sit up slowly and get your blood pressure leveled out. You've had a fair whack of drugs into your system. Here take a small drink and then you can use the bathroom."

"Hey how about some clothes. I'm not walkin' across the room buck naked. There's ladies present. Well I'm usin' that term loosely but still..."

Camilla shot him a piercing glare and Fee just laughed and started to walk away.

"I don't think we need three of us to watch him go take a leak and a wash do you? I'm out of here. Give him some shorts for God's sake Marty, Camilla can't keep her hands off him - she's already proven that. "

Knowing that her parting barb had hit back at Camilla's attempt at usurping earlier, she swung out through the doorway.

Marty turned to look at Camilla, smarting hard at Fee's words, but Camilla refused to meet his eyes and kept the gun pointed at Starsky. Without a word Marty handed the other man his boxers and threw a look at Camilla that clearly questioned why the captive man had been left in a totally naked state in the first place.

It was now more than obvious. He wondered again why he couldn't learn, why he kept on wanting this complex and unfeeling woman. A woman who gave him nothing but hurt, rejection and humiliation.

A few moments later Marty walked beside him to the bathroom and Starsky noted that he had his own weapon holstered into his harness.

They got to the bathroom door and Starsky did a quick survey of the room.

"Hey can't a man have a bit of privacy here? I need to use the john and I'm more than aware that I have two very pushy women sittin' right near me here. Leave me go in and close the door. Come on. Allow me a little bit of dignity here."

Camilla nodded and Marty pulled the door closed behind him.

Once in the bathroom Starsky wasted no time using the john quickly – relieving his full bladder and then turning the taps on hard as he splashed in the washbasin dashing his face with crisp cold water trying to revive himself from his groggy state. A survey of the room showed the narrow tall double window that opened out onto some sort of balcony. It was locked.

With the tap still running and the toilet flushing he moved quickly to the small window near the bath. Not even sure what he was hoping to achieve because he doubted very much that he would have time to pull himself through the narrow aperture, he reacted with a burst of adrenalin nonetheless. If nothing else it would feel like he had staked his intention to not give in to these people and to at least unsettle there plans a little.

Hastily he wrapped his joined fists in a towel and used the padded wad to smash hard at the plate of glass. He was wedging his body through with difficulty, the shards of glass scraping savagely at his bare back and shoulder, when a strong arm clamped down hard on his upper arm effectively halting his exit. It was quickly followed up with the cold press of a gun muzzle against his temple.

"It's a long shot Starsky. You knew I 'd have never left you in here if I thought you could get away. There's a fifteen foot drop from this balcony – what were you going to do, break an ankle and run on it?"

Starsky felt the warm trickle of blood as it slid down his back. He winced as the cool air from the open window passed across a shallow slice in his upper back.

"Would've crossed that bridge when I came to it…seemed like a good idea at the time."

He tried for smug and was surprised to see the look in the other man's eyes. It was not the look he was expecting and in his captor's face he read respect rather than malice.

"Marty! Have you got him? Oh God – I told you we couldn't trust him. Next time we do it my way."

"Save it Camilla. He got nowhere and all he's done is cut himself up some. You'll need to go and get that First Aid Kit and some antiseptic to clean his back up. I've got him secured."

She was at the bathroom door now, hostility radiating from her flawless face.

"Shit! I didn't want him hurt or damaged in any way! The buyer won't be happy."

"Then go and get the stuff and some clean towels and hurry up will you!"

She turned abruptly and left.

Marty slowly lowered his gun from Starsky's temple and pulled him carefully back inside through the broken window.

"Looks like you and I have some ground rules to get down. I don't plan on chasing you around for the next twenty-four hours and holding a gun to your head. Not my style. More yours – you being a cop and all. Me – I'm for the peaceful easy life."

"Well Marty, you ain't gonna be gettin' any peace from me and you and I - we sure ain't gonna have an easy relationship in the next day or so, bein' that I don't enjoy being trussed up on a bed buck naked with two crazy women holding me captive. I'd rather be at home in my own bed if ya' get my drift. So unless you aim to use that gun you're flashing around there buddy, you'd better know that I'm not gonna make this easy for you and ya' lady friends. Understand me Marty?"

"I already worked that out….Starsky. I've taken your mark days ago. Know how you think, what makes you tick. I won't have any more problems with you at all. I reckon I won't even need to pull this gun on you one more time and you'll do exactly as Camilla wants you to do."

"Yeah how so Marty? Because right about now I'm not feelin' too happy with this arrangement. Fuckin' far from happy Marty."

"Then get happy. Learn to live with it and quick. I'm only here to help with you briefly – my job is elsewhere. Camilla has it all worked out and from what I've seen in the last week I'd say she has it worked out well."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning….I've spent so far today trailing your buddy and as soon as I leave here I go back to trailing him. Real close – real close. I'm good at my job Starsky. Like you are at yours. Been doin' it for a long time. I watch people, get to know them and their moves, their habits, their motivations. I can even tell you what your good buddy is thinking, feeling. That's my job. He's been running around like a lunatic since you didn't show up at the station this morning Starsky. Been back to your apartment three times already and down to your favorite car retailers, back to the station, back to his place…."

"Shut up you Fuck! You keep Hutch out of this!"

"Can't very well do that and you know that. You know why. He's already breathing fire, beating down doors looking for you. You want me to make it harder for him by putting a bullet in his shoulder? In his leg? Rigging his dumpster heap of a car so that the brakes fail?"

"Why are you doing this to us? Who has sent you to get me?"

"I don't like hurting people Starsky – its not in me so much now – not since – well the past is the past. Not the same for Camilla. She's different. You don't want to play nice with her – she'll give me the orders not to play nice with your buddy….show you the evidence so that you're even more convinced to play nice.

Have we got an understanding Detective Starsky?"

Starsky just fixed him with his coldest stare but his body went limp, all resistance seeping away as icy fear for Hutch filled his veins.

"Thought so, now get over there to the bath edge so we can start to clean up those nice open slices you put through your back. And don't look at me like that …I don't make the rules…but I learned a long time ago that it pays well to follow them."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSHSHSHS 

Hutch had been in and out of Dobey's office three times in the past half hour to check on the status of any reports of a sighting of Starsky's Torino and was patching through to the black and whites outside of both his and Starsky's apartments now, every ten minutes.

Another hour and a half had gone by.

The tow truck companies had been exhausted. So too had any taxi companies that may have picked up a woman in the area this morning with a broken down car. That was simply overkill because he didn't even know if she would have used a cab with the whole breakdown scenario.

"Scenario". He thought of the word and then pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes leaning forward hard onto the desk. Scenario…the call from Starsky. What part of that call, of that situation has played a role in him not turning up after it?

"Hutch!"

Dobey was at his open office door, his face plastered with "bad news" across his forehead.

"We've got a lead. One of the units has called in Starsky's Torino – it's been found right across town in a side street. Miles from where he would have been this morning."

Hutch pushed his chair back not bothering that it smashed hard against the filing cabinet behind him.

"Any damage? Any...evidence?'

"Yes. It was locked. On the front seat they found a small wooden cross. His rings were attached to it."

Hutch's vision blurred for a moment, his mind latching on to the one word that scared the shit out of him.

A cross.

_No No No...Even from behind prison doors._

Simon Marcus was back in their lives.

Just like that. So easily, so easily he had done it again.

His vigilance had all been for nothing. Amounted to nothing.

Once more Starsky had been taken from him.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSH


	7. Chapter 7

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Two black and whites were parked in the entrance to the dark narrow side street signifying to any passer byer that perhaps down that street lay some insidious crime scene. A murdered body? A strangled rape victim? Slain victims of a gang shoot out?

But in fact all that the narrow laneway had to offer up for drama was a red and white low slung Torino, not even boasting a cracked windshield or slashed tires. Innocuous enough in itself. But to the tall blond man that strode briskly toward it, its hulking presence in that quiet dirty street was every bit as menacing as a slain corpse. His partner's car – brought here and abandoned, left purposely for one reason only – to tell him that someone had Starsky.

Again.

Hutch had pulled his own car in close to the police cars and approached the officers standing vigil near their cars and effectively blocking entry to the side street.

When he'd received the news of the located Torino from Dobey he had raced across town, ordering the officers to remain in place, to not touch the vehicle and to secure the area from the public.

Now he was looking at the solid evidence of a tangible part of Starsky he wondered what he had expected to find. There was nothing of note – no distinguishing marks on the car, no blood, bullet holes, or evidence that anything untoward had gone on in the Torino's interior. Nothing left there for him perchance by his partner as a way of letting him know something of his whereabouts.

Nothing, except a small wooden cross and to it, bound securely with a piece of thin string, Starsky's two rings. The cross was still laying on the front seat where the officers had found it, the rings, worn and marked up by years of use, glinting in the dull light of the alley. He wondered for a moment how these officers could have possibly know these were Starsky's rings but then quickly realized that in describing them to Dobey, the Captain himself would have known. Familiar to the Captain and even more painfully familiar to him.

He carefully placed the cross and rings in a small evidence bag but knew it was unlikely prints would be salvageable.

Looking up he found the officers watching him – waiting for some direction. He sat a little longer almost as though by sitting in the car's familiar interior it would speak to him and give him something, anything about where to go next. The cross of course meant he would be heading in the direction he had feared ever since he got Starsky back from the cult. In a direction he had hoped he would never need go again. For weeks he had fought against the background grinding anxiety that Simon Marcus would not give up so easily on punishing them for finding Starsky, literally pulling him from the murderous hands of Marcus' men and therefore sentencing Marcus to his inevitable prison sentence. For weeks he had hovered around his partner, watching, checking, intercepting any potential threat of Marcus' cult members trying to take him again.

And now it had happened anyway.

"Fuck you Marcus! I'll make your time in prison even worse when I get your sick head between my hands! Fuck you to hell and back!"

The sudden burn in his knuckles made him realize he had slammed his closed fist up to smash against the interior roof of the car. He winced hard as he grabbed his throbbing hand in the other. One of the younger officers had hurried over to him and put his head inside the window.

"Sir?"

"No...sorry, it's ok. It's ok. Just letting off some steam that's all. Let's arrange to get the car back to the Precinct's garage so the guys can go through it. I' m taking this evidence with me. You can open and clear the area now. There's nothing here."

Just for a moment more he sat cradling his bruised hand. He became aware of it then. The car held the faintest but distinctive residual smell. Different to the car's usual smell, and foreign to it. Not just the familiar male scent he associated with Starsky but a new underlying smell.

Perfume. Feminine smells.

A woman had been in this car recently. With Starsky or alone?

Had a woman driven it to this site?

Was it the same woman who Starsky spoke about early that morning? The one he has stopped to assist with the broken down car?

Was she one of Marcus' people, sent to set Starsky up?

Dobey wouldn't like it he knew. What Hutch wanted to do next. But despite what Dobey liked or not and however many strings he had to pull and pull quickly, Hutch was determined to meet face to face with Simon Marcus as soon as he could arrange it.

**SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSSH**

She was waiting outside in the living room when Marty eventually closed the door to the room where they were keeping Starsky. He noted that she stood holding a tumbler with a shot of whisky on ice, her slender elegant hand shaking almost imperceptibly but enough for him to notice. In the her right hand she still held Starsky's gun and Marty thought how incongruent it looked – a drink in one hand and a loaded gun in the other. A mixture of sultry, seductive and dangerous tendencies. It described Camilla well.

He could tell she was far from relaxed and she placed the gun down on the bar with some relief when she watched him close the door behind him.

Her guard dropped a little and some of her edgy hardness returned, more sure of herself again now that the Detective was secure.

Marty figured that he knew her moods, he knew her reactions, could read her face and her body language. Sadly, he realized, Camilla was in many ways very familiar and to him but in other ways still so much a detached mystery. He just wished he knew what made her treat him the way she did. He just wished he meant more to her than he obviously did. She was using him and he was too weak to walk away from the pain she like to inflict.

"It's done. I've cleaned up his cuts and covered them. None of them are too deep and hopefully they won't fester. He ate a bit of the meal and had some fluids. He wasn't particularly interested in the food but got a bit down. He's too professional not to - knows that fuel and energy is essential in order to keep going, to survive the situation he finds himself in."

"Did you sedate him again…to get him to co-operate with you? I was waiting out here and had the doorway covered anyway."

"You really didn't need to worry. I had it all under control. I only gave him a light dose just so he can sleep and doesn't get agitated and pull at the restraints. I know you don't want him marked up at all. In the end I didn't have any trouble getting him to do as I asked."

She looked knowingly at him now as she mixed him a drink and handed it to him. Her fingers just missed contact with his as the glass passed between them. She had managed to avert her eyes from his whereas he had been helpless to do the same, drawn to her as he always seemed to be. He was snapped back to her question, her face discerning as she narrowed her eyes over her raised glass.

"You used a threat against his partner didn't you? To get him to calm down."

"Worked like a charm. Just one mention that I had Hutchinson under scrutiny and he dropped all attempts to pull against me. I don't imagine we'll have another episode like that again. Not while I'm out there with his partner in my sights. It's admirable really – sort of feel like a heel for using it against him."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I've got a certain amount of respect for that sort of loyalty, that sort of partnership. It's strong and it's unbreakable. Gotta like that about the two of them – gotta admire him for taking what we dish out to him in order to protect his buddy."

"How can you be so sure he's not going to try something again with us? He's one stubborn bastard from what I can tell."

"As long as I'm not around here and obviously out there on the street covering his buddy, he will not be a problem. He'll be too concerned you'll give me a directive to act on his partner."

"Well I've made up my mind I'm contacting the client. He can take this one off our hands earlier than planned. I don't want the responsibility of trying to keep him in one piece and unscathed. Only had him less than a day and he's managed to rip up his back."

"Your call Camilla."

Marty threw back the rest of his drink and picked up his car keys from the table, adjusting his gun in its holster and pulling his coat back on.

"I'd better get back to the surveillance. When do you want me back here?"

"If the client wants to take him off my hands I will try to arrange for the handover in the morning. Call me later this evening to see if I need any help with him. We'll have to mobilize him again later tonight and you'll need to be here for that and when we do the handover. Bring some information back about his partner – just to keep him on his toes and behaving ok?"

"Alright. I'll phone later. I was hoping for some time with you, perhaps to eat together later…and.."

"If I get time later it will be to get some sleep while Fee watches him. I won't be using my free time to –"

"To spend with me? You wouldn't want to waste any time on me is that it?"

"Look I didn't mean it that way its just that you're crowding me. I've got things on my mind with this transaction. I'm not in the mood for ..."

"I get it Camilla. I get it. You're only in the mood for seducing some poor guy who is tied to a bed - someone you can completely overpower. Maybe if your dark-haired captive in there was free to respond in his own way you would find that he wasn't as attracted to you as you think. He's not asking for the real you Camilla, I am."

"Marty –"

But he was already out the door, his vestiges of hope for getting their relationship back onto some sort of intimate footing fading more quickly than his hasty exit.

**SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHS**

"So you have him?"

"Yes we secured him early this morning. The pickup went without a hitch. I'm confident there is no chance he can be found. We have worked it that the …people who might be looking for him, will be mislead entirely by his abduction."

"That's your problem not mine. Just make sure you don't have the cops on my tail as soon as I take him or you'll be finding yourself out of business."

"I appreciate that Mr. Calvetti. We've done our homework on this one and feel confident that his 'interested parties' will be looking elsewhere for him over the next few days. Our trail will be cold by the time they track back to it - if in fact they ever do."

"You were quite effusive about this 'Target'. I've been left with the hope that he is something close to what I have been searching for these last couple of months."

" When we first sourced him we were blown away. He is the closest we have come across to your profile...it is almost freaky. The resemblance is uncanny. You'll be more than happy with him."

"Is he as good as your photos?"

"Yes every bit as good and he has a personality that I'm sure you'll find superior to the others we have sold you recently. He's…very strong willed and displays resilience and determination."

"And the eyes? Don't try and waste my time with another fake one, I won't tolerate it this time."

"I'm sorry about that mistake Mr. Calvetti. I had no idea that he was wearing coloured contacts. We'll be more careful in the future. But yes, this one has the exact sort of color you are looking for – overall I think you'll be impressed with the whole package. You're planning to take him to auction?"

"Yes of course. But if he is as perfect as you describe him to be then I might find some use for him in the meantime."

"Well that works out well for both of us because I really would like you to take possession of him as soon as possible. He has proven to be too willful and I really don't think we can continue to keep him safely under the conditions we have here at this house to contain him. Can you arrange to take him soon? I was hoping for the morning?"

"That will work for me. It gives me a few days before the auction to be a little creative with him."

She didn't ask and really didn't want to know what the buyer was implying with the word "creative".

His parcel, his responsibility once the money was in her hands.

David Starsky was fun to have in her hands even for a little while, but she knew to keep him too long would be playing with fire. Fee liked him just a little too much and she sensed that the sexy Detective could quickly cause a triangle with her and her colleague. She also didn't care for the way Marty had warmed to him - that whole allegiance to the partnership "buddydom" shit.

Better to hand him on to Calvetti and let him do whatever it was that he did with these curly dark- haired, swarthy skinned blue- eyed men that he so hungrily desired and was prepared to pay big money to obtain.

**SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSH**

"I want to see him, to talk to him. You need to arrange it so that I can get into him by tonight. "

"There hasn't been a word of contact from his people since Starsky's car showed up. It's not like last time when they were straight onto us after the snatch. We can't be sure its them Hutch. You know that. We need to wait."

"I'm not waiting. Not one minute more than necessary. He's gone. I know that, you know that - even before the Torino showed up. They've got their filthy stinking hands on him again and already, right now while we're standing here debating it, they're probably hurting him. Torturing him. It doesn't matter that we haven't had contact from them. He's just playing with me. He will make it different and difficult – more of his sick fucking games. We know it's them again. Their mark, the cross and leaving behind a bit of Starsky's like they did with his shield. His rings are as personal to him as the shield is. It's the same game all over again. He's just waiting for us to start to play. I want to fucking …. How did this happen again? How did I let this happen to Starsky again Captain?"

"Hutch. You couldn't have stopped this and you know it. Life has to go on. How much longer do you think you could have walked beside him, shadowing him in order to keep them away? There's always a risk, always a chance these things happen to police officers when cases like this evolve. Simon Marcus is a powerful force. He has his followers everywhere and until he is gone for long enough, until they start to forget his teachings and his word, his control over his cult is still strong."

"We didn't achieve a thing by freeing Starsky the first time if this psycho lunatic can still direct his people to follow his orders even when he is in maximum security prison. Starsky will never be safe from him. Why is he doing this? He must know he'll never be released. It's all about inflicting as much hurt and pain on us as he can manage until he is put to death."

Dobey ran his eyes over the highly agitated man pacing his office, his face caught somewhere between barely contained feral violence and fear. This was all too much on top of recent events. He remembered how Hutchinson had been in this same office only weeks earlier. Then he had been anguished and frustrated with Marcus' convoluted mind games, his partner's life weighing in the balance as he struggled to solve the clues that pointed to where the cult was holding Starsky prisoner.

All too close, all too much too soon again.

When Hutchinson had met with Simon Marcus last time he had managed to contain himself – matching intellectual sparring and introspective dialogue with him in order to try to save Starsky's life. He had held onto his restraint despite the passive taunting of the charismatic evil cult leader.

This time Dobey doubted that Hutchinson could manage to conduct himself in the same measured way in an audience with his partner's possible abductor. Right now Hutch's rage at what had befallen his partner for the second time had slipped up a couple of gears, his patience almost snapping before the hunt began. Dobey feared that if he let this man now so violently brittle by the second abduction of Starsky, anywhere near Marcus, there would be dramatic repercussions.

**SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SH**

They were moving him. Trying to shift his weight from the bed onto some sort of mobile gurney.

Hospital? Was he is in hospital? Didn't smell like it, didn't sound like it. No hum of medical machinery, no pungent medicinal odours and no gentle soothing hands exploring wounds or checking his IV.

Female voices and a male one in the background. Nurses? A doctor? Definitely not Hutch's voice. He had no sense of his partner's presence at all.

Where was Hutch then? Hospital meant Hutch. Closely seated on a chair beside the bed and talking softly and reassuringly to him as he lay floating in and out of drug infused states and engulfing waves of pain.

"So are we keeping him fairly alert then?"

"Yeah, he wants him awake enough to get an idea of his personality and to see his eyes clearly. We'll just have to keep him cuffed and covered with the gun. Let's get him into the car. I don't want to be late for the meeting time."

"God Camilla. We only got to keep him for such a short while. Why the big rush to hand him over to this sicko? I had hoped for some more time with him."

"No. He's too unpredictable. As it is Calvetti won't be happy about the cuts on his back. He likes them totally unmarked."

Starsky struggled hard to concentrate and to take in the conversation around him. It would have been far easier to drift back to sleep but somehow he knew it was important to tune into these voices. Slowly once more reality took shape in his mind and he felt again that terrible experience of shifting from a drugged state into conscious realisation - realisation that he was still trapped, still held against his will and still very much in danger.

"Wherya takin' me to now? Whatda doin?"

He was becoming clearer with each moment and each moment was forming single frames of perception. The snapshot of reality he was getting was that he was definitely not in a good place.

"Awake again David? Well we're not going to give you any more drugs for now. We're taking a little drive so we need you to co-operate while we get you into the back of this van. Please don't try and struggle or escape. Marty's here again with the gun and we don't want to have to use it."

"Ya' won't shoot me. Said ya'self ya' want me unmarked. Unmarked for what?"

"Don't be fooled David. Of course we'll shoot you if we have to, but we won't kill you. Just wound you. And remember what Marty said. If you stuff up my plans I will take it out on your partner and then make sure you follow my directions for the rest of the time."

She saw in his eyes now that he seemed to be wavering about her threats against his partner and so she nodded in the direction of Marty. Did he not believe her? Did he doubt that she would really act out her threats against his partner.

"What were you telling me about Hutchinson when you got here Marty? Marty's keeping your blond friend under his nose the whole time...and he says that your partner is banging down the doors of the state penitentiary to pay your old friend Simon Marcus a visit. Apparently he hasn't been moved up to San Quentin yet and so Hutchinson wasted no time in tearing down to the prison to take on Marcus. He thinks that Marcus has taken you again. Can you just imagine the state he must be in? We did leave a clue pointing him that way. Poor thing is desperate and blames himself for not watching you closely enough. It was stupid of him after all to let you go off with some woman who claimed her car was broken down.

"I don't think he's ever going to forgive himself. Poor guy. He'll always think that he fucked it up for you, let you down by allowing this to happen to you. After all it was only a few weeks ago you were caught up in all that horrific drama with that terrible Cultist. We know all about it...Marty is good at his job at digging up the background on our targets. Yeah, poor Hutchinson..."

"Shut your face! You know nothin' about my partner ...or me for that matter. Stop wasting' ya breath on trying to get me all riled up over him. Anything was wrong with Hutch, I'd know way before you. You get that? But I'm tellin' ya once lady and listen well. Keep Hutch outta the equation you get me? Keep him out or ya' gonna have more to deal with than ya figured. Ain't none of it gonna be pretty."

"I was merely trying to make you aware that we have the situation with him closely monitored. You decide to be difficult while we are doing this transfer than he'll be the one to pay. And to quote you David...I'll make sure that it "ain't pretty" either, and that would be a terrible shame because your partner has such a pretty face. "

She couldn't help but note the sudden kick to the guts that her comment made to the man who fixed her with a fierce glare.

"Hey does it look like I'm fuckin' going anywhere? Three against one bound, half drugged man who has a gun pointed on him is hardly a balanced fight. I'm not likely to ruin your little party sweetheart but don't try and bullshit me with anything to do with my partner."

" Good, I'm glad you agree that you'd be smart to lie there and do as you're told. When we hand you over I don't want the buyer to see you all messed up.

"And just so you're aware you Bitch...Ya' hurt Hutch and you'll never have my co-operation so remember that when you're threatening me."

"Well look it's all academic now because very soon you'll be with your new owner David. It's his concern from now on how he'll earn your respect of him. I think you'll find him a hell of a lot less forgiving than I am."

"What the fuck do you mean by new 'owner'?"

"Exactly what it sounds like David. Mr Calvetti is going to be your new Master...in every sense of the word. How he trains you is his prerogative. He might find other ways to teach you to obey him and he mightn't need to bother with threatening to hurt your poor partner. I guess you'll just have to wait and see what his preferred style of training is."

"What sort of crazy outfit are you runnin' here?"

"Me? Oh I wouldn't worry too much about my role in this operation David. Once I deliver you...my job is done. The real action for you happens from here on."

"So who is this man you're takin' me to?

"You'll be with him in less than an hour so you'll soon find out. He's looking forward to meeting you David."

**SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSH**

He must have drifted off again when the van had been on the road for a few miles because the next stimulus he was aware of was the sound of a different male voice than that of Marty's.

Camilla was somewhere nearby because he could smell her strong perfume - a hovering presence but no longer right up close to him. He had been wheeled out of the van into a brightly lit open room - a garage of some sort.

Unexpectedly the man whose voice he had heard appeared at his side and spoke his name.

"David? David...look up at me."

He felt a hand touch him lightly on the shoulder, sweep down the side of his naked torso then back up to finger his curls. The hand gripped his jaw tightly now and tipped his face toward the light.

It was a pointless request because he had already been staring at the man for the last few moments. Even with the residual fog of drugs Starsky felt the kick of shock go through him. It was quickly followed by a deep current of dread. Dread that came with the dawning of understanding.

The man's face told Starsky a lot. His words told him more.

"The eyes are just right ...yes just right. The perfect shade of blue. Hair, skin, facial features, body shape. Perfect."

The man's hand that had been gripping Starsky's jaw released its hold and moved up to touch his own face lightly. His fingers settled on one side of his face which was formed by a raised, puckered pink and white distorted piece of flesh. One eye was pulled down at the side, caught in a twist of shrivelled flesh and the edge of his lip also was dragged down into a distorted shape by the contracted tissue. The fingers traced over the hypertrophic skin and massaged it lightly almost as though he was providing some relief for discomfort or pain.

But although dramatic the disfiguring scar tissue wasn't what was holding Starsky's attention.

It was the other side of the man's face.

The other side which was totally unmarred by such ravaging scars. Here the skin and features were normal and framed by hair that was full and lustrous - dark and curly.

One very clear and perfectly shaped eye looked straight at Starsky - as deep blue as his own eyes.

Turned slightly to the side as the man now was, with the scarred side not visible, Starsky knew that it would not be a stretch for someone to mistake this man's profile as his own.

**SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSH**


	8. Chapter 8

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 8**

* * *

**_Special thanks to Tabs and Brook for pushing me to go with a Marcus angle in this story._**

**_Much of the muse between Hutch and Marcus was conceived by them._**

**_Both of them are Bloodbath/ Marcus fans and really wanted to bring him into Hutch's life again...so here he is._**

* * *

For a moment Starsky's narrowed concentration and study of the man named Calvetti was disrupted.

Suddenly Camilla was in his personal space again. Up close, too close and she was pushing her sleek coiffed hair and artfully made up face right into his own slightly dumbfounded and shell-shocked one.

Starsky's visual field was again filled with her sensuality as she now stepped up to his side to stand beside him as he lay still bound, on the gurney. Even though she was speaking directly to him he could not break the captivating hold that the disfigured man's face had on him.

This was his new ..."owner" ? The one he had heard referenced by Camilla and the others? The resemblance to his own face was uncanny and Starsky's head was filled with a rush of possible motivations that lay behind this man's abduction of him. There were suddenly so many possibilities as to why he might be important or valuable to this stranger with half of his own face so similar to his own. So many possibilities.

Not one of was good. In all certainty his plight had just gone from bad to worse.

This was no ordinary room, no standard sort of garage or storeroom that one might find in a residential home or small business. Taking in his surroundings with it's quality fittings and the heavy security doors and cameras, even in his less than fully cognizant state, Starsky was beginning to get the picture that the man standing before him did not swim in a small pond. The relief that he had experienced when he first surmised that this operation was not part of Simon Marcus' set up or band of merry cultists - was short lived. There might be a lack of black robes and religious symbolism about this place but there was a marked professional and ruthless starkness to this man and his surroundings which suggested that what lay in store for him was as every bit as undesirable as what he had suffered at the hands of Marcus' men. At least he had understood that when he had been grabbed from the courthouse by the cultists his capture was pivotal to the Cult's leader's arrest. He was a pawn in the game of Simon Marcus' sick belief system and self-grandiosity. Hutch likewise had become a plaything for Marcus as he was sent on a chase to find him - a chase that led to nowhere.

But this situation seemed altogether different.

What purpose did any of these people have with bringing him here? So far there had been very little forthcoming in the rationalization of his abduction. His drugged and vulnerable body had provided some brief sexual diversion for both of the women but he hardly thought it was worth the effort and the risk in procuring him purely for some female's sexual domination fantasy.

His brief encounter with Camilla's pliant hands had been purely a bi-product or side benefit for the women of some other purpose. Camilla's ruse to get him alone and eventually captured was part of a bigger picture.

Those pliant hands were once more on his body, gripping his shoulder and touching his chest where it lay bare above the light sheet, her insistent voice pulling his attention to her and away from his focus on the man with half a face destroyed by some past trauma. Camilla was almost petulant in her taunting demands that he look at her and pay her undivided attention.

"I think it is obvious David that Mr. Calvetti approves of our choice in you. You should be proud of that David, because he is a very discerning client and is not easily impressed. I'm so glad you like him Mr. Calvetti – he is remarkably similar to the photos you provided us with in your original dossier."

She was careful not to say what had come to her attention as soon as she saw the two men side by side - that had Calvetti not been so horrifically disfigured he and David Starsky could be taken as brothers very close in age.

"Yes you've pleased me with this one Camilla. I was beginning to think you and your team were getting sloppy, unprofessional. I want to use the word – 'unreliable', but you've managed to pull yourself free of that label with this acquisition. "

"So our agreement for the final price is….."

"As we discussed. You'll get half now that I have seen him and the other half when I present him to the auction. I cannot anticipate any barriers to obtaining a healthy price for him. "

"That is in two days. You still want me to wait till then? What if by chance you don't proceed to auction – what if you take too much of a liking with David and decide to retain him for the longer term? Perhaps we can discuss full payment now in lieu of that possibility."

"No I won't be keeping him beyond the auction day. There are too many potential buyers waiting for stock like him. I can make use of him in the next day or two and still make good money from the onward sale. "

_Fuckin' hell this is not happening to me. _

Starsky tried not to show the cold fear that was crawling up his spine and biting into his neck muscles – his muscular tension taut and his nerves strung out. The trail was getting too convoluted – he was going to be moved onto a third party – and he couldn't even think that there would be one solid lead to bring Hutch sniffing to Camilla's door let alone this second phase of his disappearance….and now the talk of some "auction".

_Christ man are you in some deep shit here. How the fuck did all this happen and why? _

He tried to think what time it was now and where and what Hutch would be and doing? Was it more than twenty four hours since this sick bitch had lured him out of his car to her ostensible aid? Twenty four hours and yet it might have been days such was the feeling that he had been pushed and pulled and moved around like some package in a sorting room. A fragile package at least, for they had taken considerable care not to wound him or bang him up any. But now as that one keen blue eye measured him up with such scrutiny he began to question what the kid glove treatment had all been about.

Starsky saw the hesitation and uncertainty in Camilla's eyes her painted lips pursing as she considered the other man's words and reasoning.

"Well you do realize that I will want some proof of what you obtain for him at auction. If you don't want to change it and settle up with me now seeing that you are happy with him….I will be wanting my share of the auction price as discussed. That was thirty per cent of the price as we'd agreed. "

Starsky had reached a point of unbearable tension and with no leeway to move his body made use of his only weapon – his mouth.

"What the fuck am I to you lot? Some carcass of meat? An animal to be taken to market? What is this shit? So you're running some sort of human trafficking operation and suddenly you see me on the street outside some freakin' restaurant with my car and decide that I fit the bill? You're crazy. I'm a cop – you certainly know how to pick your livestock. Don't you realize that I'm branded – not a smart move to pick on one of the herd of the city's police department?"

"Thank you for your witty analogy. Whatever your profession is David, or Mr. Starsky is hardly of merit to me. Maybe to Camilla who needs to concern herself with sourcing my particular….. requested targets…but not to me. In the end it matters little. All that matters is that you fit the specific profile. And, from my point of view, I was sufficiently lucky enough that Camilla and her colleagues happened upon you. Don't concern yourself with anymore questions or internal debates. Your position is irrevocable. You will learn very soon that there is little point in wasting time giving thought to your new, ah, situation. Now, I need to finalize my business transaction with this lovely woman and I believe that my assistants are ready to take you to your new room."

"My new – room? What the hell do you think this, a fucking guesthouse! You pompous asshole. Why am I here? Why me?"

"What difference does it make why it's you David? It doesn't change your circumstances to know or understand it anymore than I do."

"It makes a hell of a lot of difference! I want to know. So you've got similar looks to me – or did have as I can see you've had some sort of accident. Hey I'm sorry about that ok, but snatching guys off the street who happen to look like you once did – well it ain't gonna make that go away. …"

Camilla, looking decidedly uncomfortable with Starsky's input and leaned a little heavily onto Starsky's shoulder offered him up some semi hostile advice.

"I think you'd be best to keep your mouth shut David. I know already that you like to try to take the upper hand even when you're in the subordinate position, as you are so obviously now - but for your own well being I suggest you remain silent. Please remember your devoted partner is still out there in the open…"

"Listen you hard faced bitch, I'm gettin' damn sick of hearin' you threaten Hutch – it makes me want to wipe that smug look off your face with the back of my hand – which I'd gladly do if you didn't keep me trussed up - so don't start with that shit again…"

"Enough! Camilla. This man is no longer your concern. He is mine now so please refrain from involving yourself any further. No more talk. Your partner is not my concern David – just you. Now let my staff takes care of you and I'll be with you once you've been settled in your room and I have completed my business here. I will be with you a moment Camilla, I need to give some directions to my chief assistant. "

With a wave of finality the scarred face man ushered over two men who took little time to ready themselves to wheel the gurney away. Quickly he gave them some instructions on what to do with the still bound Starsky. He then stalked off toward a third man waiting near the doorway whom Starsky guessed to be the main assistant. The man had a regular little army of helpers at his disposal.

Wealth, power, corruption – a lethal combination. Add into the mix a good dose of mental imbalance and Starsky knew he was up to his armpits in shit.

Camilla held up her hand to the two men.

"Ah excuse me for a moment gentlemen. I just want a few last words with the Target here. You can take him in one moment alright?"

The two assistants moved to the side, shrugging their indifference.

For perhaps the last time he was left alone again with Ms. Femme Fatale and he waited for what he knew would be her next move. Starsky was only now starting to appreciate that Camilla, although bad was way down the ladder when it came to comparative ruthlessness with the emerging potential of the disfigured man.

The heavy waft of her perfume floated about him as she leaned in close to offer him a farewell of sorts. Quietly she hissed under her breath as she slipped her hand provocatively down beneath the half sheet that covered Starsky from the hips down.

"You seem to have a habit of puttin' those hands where I don't want them to go. Don't ya know that men usually like to have some say in who gets to grab certain parts of their body? Take em' away lady. Take your hands offa' my body. "

"Oh but my hands know when they are getting to touch something that feels so good to them. It was nice knowing you David. I would have liked longer to get to know …your personality, umm, your body. Such a sexy body. Such a shame to think what my client might want to do to it. Such a waste when I had so much I could have done with it myself. I gave him your whole perfect body David. He was adamant that is the only way he wanted you to be presented to him. A few marks on your back from that glass, but ….well…I hope he'll understand that was because of your willful character.

So fortunate Mr. Calvetti. With you David he has his clean slate, his unmarked body. A clean slate, an empty page – all just there waiting for him. You're just lying here David. Waiting for him to paint your blank canvas. Part of me wishes I could be here to see how he operates, but my bad luck – he would never allow it. I'll just have to fantasize won't I? I wish you luck."

Starsky would've thrown a parting shot at Camilla but taking one last look at her cold dignified stance his bitterness towards her and what she had done to him was so great that he couldn't even conjure up the energy to offer her that. All fight had temporarily left him. She had succeeded in raising his internal gut twister. She had meant to do that – to put the seed of fear into him.

If ever he had the opportunity to help a woman with a broken down car again he would be sure to turn a blind eye and keep on driving because this one had surely done a number on him. Hutch was right – she had been coming on to him – but not in the way that a man would like to be. This seductress had pulled him into more than just a wrangle in bed. He was a hand picked prize for whoever this Calvetti was – obviously a man with an agenda. Camilla had just made Starsky part of his agenda.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH S

For the second time in less than a month he was waiting to be let into the interrogation room attached to the maximum-security wing of the prison. Different room perhaps, but same appearance, same atmosphere and same pervasive rottenness that emanated from its walls.

It felt so much like the other time. So very similar. Just as painful and just as frightening. He had only just begun the chase for his partner but already he felt time had eluded him and the race was off and running without him. Just like the last time, as soon as Starsky had been taken, time had become his number one enemy. It was a dark swirling vortex that had swallowed up his partner and kept him spiraling away from him, sucking him further and further toward an end point where Starsky would forever be gone. Hutch's emotions condensed into sharp jagged moments of fear and worry and was only measured by his sense of running on the spot, looking down blind alleys and coming up against brick walls. He had yet to even do much of that yet but like the last time when Marcus had held his friend Hutch knew it would be the same fruitless and nightmarish sense of helplessness.

This time was even worse in that Marcus had not offered up any clue to his involvement in the kidnapping apart from the small cross. There had been no demands, no ultimatums, not one possible 'out' for Starsky.

And only one short month ago he had been through all of this before and even worse he couldn't bring himself to think how it must be for Starsky. To be undergoing the trauma of a repeat performance of such personal horror – surely the human mind could not withstand such an assault.

Yesterday they had been in the normal rhythm of life, and today both of them had been catapulted back into the black void of relentless fear.

How would he keep his hands off Marcus when the guard finally came to open the door and allow him entrance into the interview room? How would he not instantly rush him, grab him with his bare hands and pummel his head against the wall, crush his cheekbones with his thumb and forefinger, smash his fist over and over and over into his bearded face that shone with self righteous belief in himself and his power?

He had to restrain himself – if only for the time it took to get the information he needed – but of course longer than that too. For too unleash the demon inside him on this woeful caricature of a man would spell disaster for Starsky. It would not resolve the mystery that Marcus no doubt wanted to shroud Starsky's disappearance in - it would not allow Marcus to be the leader of the game and the caller of the shots. To attack, hurt, punish or mortally wound this psychopathic cult leader might make Hutch feel good but would seal his partner's fate. Whatever slim chances Starsky had for survival called for Hutch to perform like Marcus wanted him to perform. To bow down to the Master and lick his proverbial self appointed ass by playing the mind games he knew would be in place for him already.

The burly bald headed guard approached.

Hutch steeled himself for the role he knew he had to play.

_I'll do it. I'll do it you fucking sick madman, murderer and Extremist. But I'll only do it for one reason. To give Starsky every opportunity to live. If I had my way, when that door opens I'd go right for your throat and rip it wide open._

The door opened and once more it hit him like a rerun of a movie he had only recently seen. Marcus was waiting for him. Upright and proud in his orange jump suit as though he was attired from head to toe in a black robe with full ornamental regalia. His beard still intact but shorter than last time and his hair too cut short – courtesy of the prison standards and the need to strip its inmates of individuality and personality. But any attempts to do this with Marcus had failed – for his face was still alight with the sheer wonderment of himself and the internal voices that spoke to him of his supreme religious powers. It took a long time to wear down delusions of such magnitude – even in a maximum-security facility, even in isolation cells.

The recognition was in his dark eyes instantly and he latched onto Hutch with almost reverent visual undertaking of the blond man. His composure in his body and face was regal. Marcus sat enthroned on his simple plastic chair and surveyed the plebian as he entered his court.

Neither of them spoke at first and Hutch moved to the side of the room to where a small table sat, a tape recorder set upon it.

Taking the deepest breath he could he willed his mind to empty itself of all emotion. In the minute or so it took him to set up the tape recorder and adjust the settings he struggled to override the almost nauseating unease that gripped his stomach. Being closed in a small room with Simon Marcus yet again was almost a post traumatic experience.

And then there was no more prevarication and his cold ice blue eyes bored into a man he had become to dread as much as loath.

Simon Marcus was his nemesis. Hutch hated him with all of his heart and soul. Somewhat guiltily though he knew that the depth of his contempt for this murderer was founded not on what he had done to so many innocent people – how he had manipulated their cold cruel deaths. That in itself was grounds for despising this poor excuse for a human being. But the real reason he felt the clawing rage and desire to annihilate Marcus was not down to his status as a sadistic executioner cult leader. It was the fact that he had dared to have Starsky taken and had made him endure what he had while he had been in his people's clutches.

_And now….now again. No. No. Don't raise your hand to him. Don't step toward him. Once you start you won't be able to stop. _

"The White Knight has returned to me."

"I think you would have been expecting me Marcus. You know full well why I am here. Drop the façade, it's just you and me – and that is the bit that should be worrying you. Just you and me."

"Did you lose something, White Knight? I see you in my dreams, always in my dreams."

"I'm sure you do. But let's cut the dream bullshit straight away ok? , I don't care for your dreams, your sick little fantasy world of mumbo, jumbo, pseudo religious rantings. I need answers and quickly – not more of your mind game crap. Otherwise you'll be seeing me in more than your dreams – I'll be your living nightmare. Where is he?"

"I see now. How can you have lost your light again? Your star? Only so recently returned to you and gone again so soon. Darkness in your life again."

His words were so poignantly true that Hutch fought back the urge to open up to this cryptic madman – to plead. So true – darkness had once more engulfed him. Starsky's force field of life and energy burned so brightly that to have it taken away left him in sudden darkness – nothing but bleakness.

Marcus focused in on Hutch in that strange way that made him feel as though the man was looking deep inside his head, his mind….he hated him for it but needed it too – somehow he looked to this pathological representation of a human to give him some guidance.

"Starsky has gone again. He's disappeared…early today, but I know he's been taken. You know too don't you Marcus? I want to play this interview the normal way tonight. I ask you a question, you give me an answer. You give me the answer I want Marcus, or I can make your life in here a shit more terrible than it already is for you.

So – simple question. Where have you arranged to have Starsky taken to this time?"

"In my dreams, I see Polaris too. I see him calling out to you, pleading with you to rescue him...I feel his fear...I drink his fear...it nourishes me, Officer Hutchinson, he will always be mine..you know that's true."

_These words are not true…do not let them move you… that is what he wants. He knows nothing of what is happening for Starsky, only that he has ordered his abduction_.

"Again. Where have you taken him this time Marcus? What sick little plot have you and your goons conjured up in this round, huh? You know I'll find him, you know I will NEVER stop looking...if you…God, if you hurt him or try to do what you did to him last time, I swear I'll –"

"...You'll do what, White Knight? Put me in prison for the rest of my life?...These walls can only hold my body, I'm already out there, walking among you."

"What is it that you want from me this time? Your release? You know I have no control over your sentence. You know nothing can be revoked. Harming Starsky, hurting me by harming him, none of it will help your cause. It's all too late….your destiny was written by your own hands. You'll be transferred to San Quentin. You must know that. Surely you appreciate that cannot be undone. Why must you do this to Starsky? To us? Why do you always want to hurt others?"

"Hurt? When do I hurt you …with my thoughts? For my body is just thoughts and dreams. My mind is everywhere and in many other minds. I don't need to hurt just to think and to dream. I'm the sound in the dark of night when there's no body there...I'm the shadow without a body to which to cast one."

"No, you're wrong Marcus. You're as solid in flesh and bone as the rest of us. And it's not your thoughts that control others, it's your sick influence over weak bent minds that suck up your shit because they have nothing else meaningful to fill up their empty heads and souls. You're a sick fucker who's destined to die a lonely man and rot away in a grave that no one will ever visit unless it's to take piss on as they pass by. Most of your goons have gone back home to Mom and Dad, or OD'd on the crap that you got them hooked on...they don't care about you anymore...you're nothing to them anymore Marcus...nothing. You'll soon be forgotten completely and the poor lonely losers you prey on will find someone else to follow and to give them some distorted direction in life. You're nothing to me anymore either, and I wouldn't be anywhere near you again except you did this to us by trying to take Starsky away again.

I'm waiting for the answer. Where is he?"

"They take the nobody's and the nothing's...no one knows they're gone...that's why they choose them. No one dreams of them, White Knight, but you dream of Polaris and so do I...and now they have him too."

"You can take your dreams and dream them alone...no one cares anymore Marcus. I don't want to hear about your dreams I only want to hear you say what I am waiting for – the simple truth. Where is Starsky? They have him….you just said it. I know they do. Your ….sick little followers, however many of them are still left. But where? Where have they got him? "

"No. They have him. I dreamed it. They have the nobodies, but Polaris is not one of them. He shines too brightly to be one of the nameless ones they hunt. He is too bright for them and they will try to punish him for that."

"Who will punish him Marcus? Your people? Punish him because he is Polaris and bright? They punished him last time if you remember. They nearly fucking carved him up with knives. Now where is HE!"

"Start in the filth. Look in the narrow alleyways and the dull streets. He is bright so they will not take him from there. But the nobodies are not shining and live in the dirty streets. Look for him there – start there to search for Polaris."

"This is such utter crap. I can't do this with you again Marcus. Why the riddles? Why the games – these sick fucking mind games. You ordered his abduction. Now tell me where he is and this will all be over for you – I will promise to do whatever I can to make it better in here for you. But you must stop doing this to us. Just tell me. Tell me where my partner is and send out the order that he is not to be hurt by your men. I know you are somehow communicating with the them from some inside source. Please. Please – just a simple answer. No more games."

"You're a fool, white knight, Simone could have taken him anytime he wanted to...but he can wait for Polaris. Bright stars catch the eye of many dark souls and whilst you are here, spending your valuable time with me...his time is running out. My time has yet to come...if there is anything left of him worth having, white knight."

"Don't you dare threaten me that his time is running out when you give me nothing, NOTHING to go on. How can I play this mystery game with you when you continually speak in riddles. You say you don't have him….then how do you know anything about where he is?"

"You don't want to hear of my dreams do you Officer Hutchinson?"

"Oh God. I will listen to your dreams if they made any fucking sense. I need something concrete and now! Prove to me that you don't have him. Prove it! Or so help me God I will walk out of this room and set in motion some experiences for you that you would not want in your worse dreams Simon Marcus! Even in your special dreams, the dreams you claim to have while you are awake. Give me something concrete here!"

"Your friend is lost in the world of Nobody's. He is starting to feel the fear. He knows the pain will start soon. He senses it. I dream it all. I dream one day that I will have Polaris and his heavenly guiding brightness. But it may be taken from me by the dark one."

"None of this means a thing to me Marcus. None of it proves that you are not responsible. I am losing what little patience I have , what little patience I am just managing to hang onto here Marcus. If Starsky feels pain soon, then you'd better be prepared for the pain you will feel. Understand? Understand 'Simone'…you – you joke of a man. "

The piercing screech of Hutch's chair as he shoved it forcefully across the roughened tiled floor was in sympathy to the sounds reverberating in his own skull. Marcus' psychedelic speech bouncing around so hard in his own head he felt it might explode with the pressure.

"You had a chance. I gave you a good chance to stop me from doing what I really need to do now. What I have to do to make myself feel a little better, just a little bit better. To make up for a fraction of what you have done again to Starsky. By tomorrow you'll start to notice that your small, uncomfortable life in here is starting to get more and more uncomfortable. You may like to think you're a superhuman, an unearthly figurehead. And I am after all just a mortal being. But by Christ, I swear by the powers in me, modest, earthly cop, that by tomorrow you'll start to realize you're as human as the next piece of shit in the cell beside you. Starsky's pain will be yours Marcus. And if you have my partner killed then know that I will find a way to make your pain never ending. Never ending Marcus, and forever, until the day they fry you in that chair."

He slammed toward the door proud of himself for not having touched one hair on the Cult Leader's head and yet still somehow venting his wrath upon him.

"Guard!"

Hutch banged three times loudly on the door and kept his back turned from the bearded man.

"His rings are bright, but they will soon dull like his bright spirit. I see them in my dreams too. I see them now while I sit here and look at your back."

"Of course you see them you bastard. Your people took them from him. You know that. Your people pulled his rings from his fingers and tied them to that cheap piece of junk cross that they left in his car."

Hutch spoke to the closed door. He would not, could not look back at the seated man.

"Run away, white knight, run from my dreams...but know this, Hutchinson, the vixen is the predator, she hunts for fun and for pleasure and her pleasure is your beloved Polaris. My Polaris."

Hutch stopped, his hand mid air, ready to knock once more to summon the tardy guard. A thought came to him. A woman? Did Simon Marcus know about the woman Starsky referred to with the car? Had she in fact been part of Marcus' cult, part of the whole set up? Why would Marcus go to all of that trouble when all he had to was snatch Starsky once he stopped for the bait? Why have Starsky phone and report what he was doing with the woman? It didn't fit and that being the case, and if the woman and the break down and the phone call were all done before Marcus' people moved on Starsky, then how would Marcus know about her?

He turned slowly and gave Marcus a long calculating look.

"What vixen? One of yours? Did you send the vixen to take Starsky?"

"In my dreams I see the dead bodies of young men, dark, troubled, lonely and dull…not bright, no brightness like Polaris. But all blue...always blue Hutchinson, always blue."

"What do you mean by 'Blue'. Blue what? Blue how? I need more information Marcus."

"Blue windows to the soul. The wolf and the vixen. She seeks the blue that he calls for, the blue that he desires. She hunts in the dirty streets and alleys for her prey – her prey that she will take back to the wolf.

"Find the vixens lair, find the hunting ground, her feeding ground of vermin...she took your partner, Hutchinson, from under your nose, as did I the first time. But beware, White Knight, for I dream also of a wolf …the Dark One . He is is waiting for his share. Polaris is in danger, his light has attracted the wolf. You need to find him, Officer Hutchinson..and quickly. "

"You say that. You say this shit – but you speak in circular riddles. Just give me his location. A simple request. No talk of a wolf or vixen, dirty streets and nobodys. This is not some dime sideshow alley where I'm asking you to read my palm or look into a fucking crystal ball Marcus. For just one moment talk straight like a real person not some two-bit fraud act out to sucker every fool. Do – you – know – where – my – partner – is? Are you part of his disappearance?"

"I can only tell you my dreams – the vixen is taking him to the wolf. There is his pack. Your friend will be one of the pack, the brightest star who shines for him. Look in dark places where other dark haired men lurked. Nobodies for the vixen."

"Did you direct this…woman to take Starsky Marcus?"

For the first time the dark eyes looked at the blond man with starkness and clarity and the words he spoke were simpler and firm.

"You are looking in the wrong place Officer Hutchinson. You're here with Simone just as she wanted you to be. Time is slipping through your hands and you sit with Simone, just as she wanted you to do. So little time for Polaris before the light starts to fade and you waste it here. Leave now and act with speed."

"And why the fuck should you care, Marcus, you want my partner dead and have done since you took him from the court. Why the fuck should I listen to any of this contrived garble?"

"Because, White Knight, the day of reckoning has yet to come. I need Polaris alive as much as you do...my dreams for him have not ended. In fact, they haven't even started."

"I can promise you this Marcus. If …., no, when….WHEN I find Starsky, I will find some way to make sure your need of him is not fulfilled. And you're wrong. The day of reckoning has come – it came when your sentence was handed down, it was pronounced loud and clear and nothing you can do now will change it Marcus."

He snapped off the recording button on the recorder, signaling to both of them that the interview was terminated. The guard materialized at the door and Hutch refused to allow Marcus one further glimpse into what he knew would be his own drawn and worried face.

Marcus would have already seen enough. The man didn't need any superhuman sensory abilities to read the level of the private hell that had already consumed Polaris' partner.

White Knight be damned. More like foot soldier already defeated before the battle had begun.

Hutch walked out of the stark cold interview room of the prison and back into the outside world where the reality that awaited him was colder and more stark than what he left behind.

Twenty-four hours had not even passed since his partner had been taken and already he had never felt so defeated.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSH


	9. Chapter 9

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 9**

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSH

Dobey's opinion and summation of the interview tape provided little additional reassurance to his already bleak outlook.

"Sounds like the same mumbo jumbo rubbish he gave you last time we went through this with him. Just a few different words but the same meaningless riddles."

"I know – well at least that's how it seemed in the beginning. But…"

"But? You getting something out of that tape that I'm not Hutch - apart from the fact that you've openly threatened a convicted felon – threatened him with maltreatment whilst an inmate and at your ….. arrangement? Hutch I thought that I told you to tread carefully. I told you we had nothing on him."

"You think for one moment I give one shit about letting him know that I will do what I need to do to avenge anything he has done to Starsky? It wasn't a threat either – it was a damn promise. One I'll be following through on if I find out he is in fact behind this. Behind this again... Somehow though Captain, I just can't get the feeling like last time. He seemed different, less circumspect, less mystical. Almost as though he was giving it to me as straight as his sick head can give it…that he knows Starsky is gone and he has some visions of why or where….but…"

"What the hell? Are you telling me you're actually buying this white magic rubbish now? You think he can dream, can see things? You might be just too damn close to all of this Hutch. Are you sure you can handle this? Maybe you should step back and let someone else lead the investigation this time. It's only been a month since you ran yourself ragged over his abduction from the courthouse."

Hutch scrubbed hard at his drawn face, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling as he rubbed at his brow.

"No one else is taking the lead on this Captain, you know I won't allow it even if you order me - so please don't ask. As for Marcus, look I don't know. I don't know. Special perception, psychics, talking to the dead, seeing the future….shit it's all conjecture. It's all beyond what I understand or believe in with any certainty. Maybe there are a few with the gift. We all know it's supposedly out there and I'm not going to judge. And Marcus? How much of his 'dreaming' is bullshit and how much is brainwashing for the dumb masses? But this time he wasn't dreaming Starsky's demise himself, he wasn't dreaming it into some sort of reality and making it happen because he actually ordained his followers to carry it out. This time he seemed to be saying to me that he could see something – a blurred picture – but something about what might have happened to Starsk. He seemed divorced from it somehow, like he was looking in at it and trying to make sense of it himself rather than just playing with me like last time. Last time he knew all along and was bullshitting me with the mind games. This time – Christ it's hard to explain, and it doesn't come across in the tapes, but when I think about his face, his expressions…..yeah….he was trying to make it mean something to him as he conveyed it to me."

"Why would he help you? He took Starsky once and had you nearly crazy with his games - why would he want to throw you a lifeline this time?"

"Exactly what I asked him as you heard. Just says it's because he has his own plans for Starsky in the future. For 'Polaris', as he keeps calling him. One thing for sure he really has a fucked up idea about what Starsky represents to him and I'm not even going to try to understand all of that. All I know is that he claims he didn't take him this time. And I guess that is something at least. If he did he wouldn't waste the opportunity of my visit not to gloat, not to brag and not to twist my insides with his sick mind games. It's all I've got to go on Captain…what he gave me in that room…on this tape. It's all I fucking have so far."

"Starsky has only be gone less than twenty four hours Hutch. It's not that long."

Dobey wasn't surprised to feel the coldness of the blond detective's sharp glare at those words. He probably expected it and shouldn't have said it anyway. Of course he knew that Hutch was already whipped into an emotional frenzy. Even an hour of not knowing where his partner was since the Marcus event was too much for Hutchinson. Since Simon Marcus the ship hadn't even fully righted itself and here it was tipped precariously again - the other half of his dream team floundering in waves of panic.

"It's far too long for me. Far too long. Look, I'm cutting out of here and going via Huggy's.."

"He helped you last time. With the clues and the hidden meanings behind Marcus' words. You think he can do the same this time? That's a long stretch Hutch."

"It's all I have and right now I just need an hour or so to let this filter in. Go home yourself Cap'n its well after twelve. I've got Royson and his young partner out there manning the phones in case a call comes in."

"And you? You're not going to rest are you Hutch?"

"Sure I will."

"Yeah. Sure you will."

"Captain, its just too …"

"I know. I know. Someone up there is not doing a good job of looking out for your partner. Nor are they looking out for you. Consider getting some sleep. Even a few hours. I'll see you in here again at eight – or before if anything comes up."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Dead on his feet. The expression was apt. It fitted him like a glove.

He was a living walking human example of a dead, barely walking human.

Fatigue, stress and worry had worn his stamina levels to zero and turned his emotional barometer up tenfold. His mind was a blazing furnace, an electrical circuit on overload fueled by a never-ending supply of worry, self doubt and guilt. But the body had long since given up on his frenzied mind.

One part of him demanded to be stimulated with answers the other just craved to be put to sleep. Just craved for everything to be alright and to go home and find his cocky smiling partner sitting in his living room downing a beer while he waited for him. Just craved for someone to say that it had all been some terrible mixup, some stupid mistake, some hilarious bent joke.

Hell he'd take any of them. As long as Starsky was ok. Safe. Unhurt.

None of that was going to happen. Cold ice in the pit of his stomach told him that once again fear and anxiety would be his constant companions.

Climbing out of his car, the tape recorder tucked under his limp arm, he waited for a moment to collect himself before entering Huggy's bar. Overwhelming waves of physical exhaustion washed over him as he stood pulling the divergent parts of himself together. Across the road he dimly perceived a late model car with the shadowy outline of a driver sitting upright in the front seat. Only part of his brain registered the image, his thoughts somewhere else entirely.

He needed to get inside, grab a coffee or a drink and take the time to think about this interview with Marcus.

Right now there was no one more in the world that he felt so strongly pitted against than Simon Marcus.

But he was all there was. The only tenuous link between Starsky and himself.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

_He looked right at me! He saw me. Did he know anything about me? Did he recognize me from this same bar the other night?_

_His eyes locked with mine. Of course he knows something._

Marty picked up the half empty soda can in the car's mid console and swilled absently at the lukewarm liquid, swiping the back of his hand across his sticky face.

_Did he really see me or just look at me? If he had truly made me as the same guy who has been tracing his tail for nearly a week than I am done for with Camilla._

But a moment later the tall blond, hunched and drawn, turned and headed toward the bar.

_So close! I thought he had me…but no. His eyes found me but he didn't register anything. Poor guy. He looks broken down already, asleep on his feet….Just as well or I'd be doing_ _a sudden U turn and hightailing it out of here._

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHSHS HSHSHSHHSHSSHSH

In another strange room – again. Alone in another empty, sterile room. More sterile than the last. Total devoid of color, of furnishings, of stimulation of any kind.

No natural light, only harsh white light from blinding thin tubes of fluorescent – almost like a hospital. Worse than a hospital. It was utilitarian but more in a way that suggested a jail or a cell than a medical room or setting.

No window. No television. No machinery. No curtain.

Clinical. Cold…..Cameras.

Their hard glass eyes were glinting in the corners and near the doorway – looking down at him it seemed from every angle.

Just a small white room with a small narrow white bed. No covers.

Why were there no covers?

In one corner of the small room there's a shower and a toilet, separated only by a heavyweight metal fixed partition with an open doorway.

No privacy.

But he was alone now. The guards, assistants whatever the hell one chose to call them…they had left him here with himself, directed him to the narrow bed. Placed a large paper cup of water on the floor beside the bed.

Handed him two pairs of lightweight cotton drawstring pants with long legs.

As a parting gesture they had untied his wrists, turned, and silently left the room.

Alone with nothing but a cup of water and some cotton pants.

_Alone and ….no, don't say it Starsky. Don't say it to yourself. Once you say it, it's out there, out of your mind, outside of you, no longer part of you, but external to you. Free to turn itself on you and take you apart because you released it. Do not let the concept of it out._

_Do not release the fear. Do not release it's power._

Tired beyond imagination although he was sure he had been asleep for more than eighteen of the last twenty-four hours.

Drained beyond empty.

Devoid of emotions although he was brimming over with contained anxiety, suppressed anger and fear.

He rubbed thoughtfully at his chaffed wrists.

Shaking hands picked up and fingered the soft expensive fabric of the drawstring pants and absently but a little unsteadily pulled them onto to cover his naked lower half. His chest remained bare.

The sink beckoned him and next he doused his cold numb face with even colder water before wiping it with the soft thick hand towel.

He used the toilet and noted clinically that he needed to drink more because even after hours and hours his stream was weak.

He was weak in himself.

Doing nothing and feeling nothing but fear could make anyone weak.

_Twenty-four hours Hutch. Twenty-four hours and I'm already losing it. I'm losing it because I only just got it back. Only just got back from the fear of Marcus, the black robes, the daggers, the chants…._

_Twenty-four hours and already the fear is here with me Hutch._

_He's watching me. That scarred up man is watching me. I can feel it Hutch. He's watching and waiting. I'm being watched and waiting._

_What does he want from me?_

_Tell me what to do Hutch…._

Both cameras were destroyed, smashed and pulverized. Their blinking eyes blinded and no longer able to see him, to watch him or record him. He smashed into them with tight fists and it was so very easy to watch them explode, leaving them without shiny eyes to watch him anymore.

Shit that felt good. He felt better.

He sat and considered the imagery in his head.

Of course the cameras were still perfectly intact. He hadn't been able to touch them let alone destroy them. High on the walls with no moveable furniture to reach them and no projectiles to hurl at them, they were complacently safe. Untouchable and unbreakable.

But it felt good to act out in his head what he wanted to do to them.

_Watch me all you want you weirdo._

_God knows it will be the least of what I will no doubt endure with you._

Crumpling into a boneless heap in the corner of the room he refused to use the narrow cot. So tired of lying horizontal he welcomed the upright position. Still hazy with the residual drugs he needed the wall for support but at least he was more in control of his body.

Starsky sat.

Fear was in his gut for he was every bit the realist. And realistically speaking….well…..he had begun to weigh up his predicament.

He waited for what he feared was coming.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSH

Huggy had welcomed him in. God knew he needed his friend. Huggy would know his pain and his hurt. He knew them both very well now.

Even at this late hour it was not late for Huggy and his establishment was still closing down for the night, the bar staff lifting up the stools, wiping down benches, tables and restocking liquor supplies. His lanky dark friend was at the till, balancing the evening's takings when he caught sight of Hutch wearingly trudging through the door, a recorder under his arm and an expression of bleak woe on his handsome face.

Ever since he had got the harried call from Hutch earlier in the day asking if he'd seen or heard from Starsky, Huggy had been sharing the pain that the blond was so obviously feeling. Life was certainly dealing out a good dose of shit to these two cops – had it not only been a couple of nights ago that he had tried to convince Hutch to stop worrying so much about his friend and the threat of Simon Marcus? And now this.

All day Huggy had felt the guilt gnawing him for having tried to dissuade the blond half of the duo to relinquish his overprotective watchfulness on Starsky.

He tried to convey as much to the exhausted man standing before him now. To let Hutch know that he did the wrong thing in encouraging him to ease up on his security act with Starsky. Maybe if he hadn't pressured him to ease off with the hovering act...

But Hutch was not blaming him - as usual just himself.

"Don't feel bad about it Hug. It's not as if I did anything any different in the last couple of days anyway. I was still as paranoid and jumpy as ever – just tried not to show it. But this morning, well that came out of left field. His call to me – about the woman and the car. I didn't even think it sounded odd or suspicious. Why not? Didn't even try to argue with him about helping her – and even if I had done, I know he would have ignored me and gone ahead with it. Christ I don't even know if the supposed woman with car trouble had anything to do with his disappearance."

"So we're both blaming ourselves. Pointless waste of energy. Well sit yourself down here my man and let me get you a cool drink. Have you eaten? Of course you haven't….."

"No Huggy, please. No food. Just a beer. I need one to let go of some of this pressure in my head. But I couldn't eat. Not yet. Just need to sit for a while and take some time to think. I've been with him. Been with Marcus – I got into the prison and questioned him. I have the tape recording of the interview here with me."

"They let you see him? Thought he would be locked up tight by now in San Quentin – waiting for the day he gets what he deserves."

"Not yet. The penal system is as sluggish as always. He's still down here and it wasn't hard for Dobey to pull some quick strings to get me in."

"Shit man. Let me finish here and come over with you to that booth – more privacy from the staff. Here take your drink and there's another on the way. I'll be with you in a minute."

Sliding into the worn and familiar contours of the bar's booth Hutch took a long draught of the icy beer and let his head fall back, his burning eyes closing for a moment. Marcus' words washing over him as he ordered the process of the interview once more in his mind.

Within a moment Huggy was beside him with a beer for himself and another for him.

"It must have been hard for you man. Having to see that freak show again. Do you think it is him? Do you think it's him behind it all? He the one who has nabbed our dark haired friend again?"

"At first I was so convinced. The cross in the car that was left….but maybe its all a bit obvious. I was trying to describe him to Dobey. He was different this time. Still as crazy mixed up sicko – but I don't know, just not delivering the same sort of message to me. I have the recording here. Will you listen to it and tell me what you think?"

For the next ten or more minutes they both sat in silence and did that and when the recording was through, Hutch replayed the last stages of it again and Huggy leaned in toward the machine, his black face and dark eyes earnest with concentration.

As it ended for the second time he looked up to see the light blue eyes looking at him with undisguised hope.

A sad soft smile crossed Hutch's face.

"Well you were the savior for me last time Hug. I was hoping you might do your magic again. Any ideas on what all this crap is about? Here –"

He opened up a small notebook, which he had produced from his jacket pocket.

"I've jotted down all the important lines and words. Not that too much of it makes any sense, but...same as last time I guess. I need to focus on what he had to say. "

"Yeah let's go through them. But first…I have to agree with you. It sure don't sound like this cat is trying to take the gold star for picking Starsky off the street. He seems – yeah – like you said – as though he has his own ideas about it, but he can't pinpoint it clearly. Mind you Hutch, there are still some pretty heavy threats in there for his future intent on Starsky. Let's hope he gets the chair and his cult is long gone before he acts out that "dream" shit."

"I told him as much myself…but right now anyway, I can't let that distract me. Right now I have to find whoever it behind Starsky's disappearance. So the key words and phrases – he talks about a vixen and a wolf. The vixen and her lair and that she hunts Nobodies. Starsky's light is bright, brighter than the others. He goes on about "Blue"…what the hell is the "blue" bit?"

"I heard the line about other dark, troubled and lonely men….and her…the woman. Dark alleys and dirty streets. That seems to be the most coherent thing the dude said. In fact Hutch, and I'm not just trying to give you hope here to make you feel better, but when you really listen to this shit, there is quite a bit of stuff in here that could be useful."

A deep exhalation and shake of the head proved that Hutch was not so easily convinced the tape was going to provide him with anything of practical use. He pushed the second empty beer glass away and rubbed so hard at his forehead Huggy feared for the top layer of his skin.

"Look at you man. You're all in. You need to get some sleep. It's going on for two now and there's nothing you can achieve like this. I on the other hand am still firing on all of my nocturnal cylinders – being the man of the night that I am. Let me spend some more time with this tape. Do some special Huggy thinking. You can make yourself at home upstairs in a nice freshly made up bed with your name on it."

"No. No. I need to go through this again."

"I think not my man. Well not down here because if you fall asleep on this table like you look like you're about to I'm not gonna carry you up those stairs. So how about we go up, take this up and you can lie down?"

"Should go home…the phone. He might call."

"Can't drive the way you are. Come on Hutch be sensible here my man."

Finally Huggy had his way, relentless in his persistence. He was well used to being relentless with both Hutch and the missing Starsky. When one was in trouble it was an ongoing battle to get the other to take even a moment to regroup.

Within twenty minutes he closed the door on the very solidly asleep man. Hutch had crashed as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHS

How long had he been sitting there huddled on the floor against the wall? Time was impossible to measure when then was no context, no activity, no sense of reality.

The sound of the heavy door unlocking had him looking up to see the scarred face of Calvetti entering the room, a stunningly attractive woman beside him. In her arms was a bundle of what looked to be a towel and a shaving kit.

"David. I see you've settled in …but you've chosen to use the floor rather than the bed?"

"Yeah well hardly much of a choice of furniture in this prison box of a room. Are you gonna tell me what the fuck I'm doing here? I want some answers – Calvetti?"

"Good. You've remembered my name. Your mind is sharp. I like that David. Now I want to spend a little time with you but first I have brought Cassandra with me. She is going to help you to shave and clean up that unsavory bearding on your face. I find it ….disconcerting to look at an unshaven face. When she has finished helping you we will talk."

"I have no interest in shaving my face for Christ sake and I certainly don't need no woman to help me with it if I did. What the hell is this stupid game?"

"You will permit Cassandra to watch you David. She has a gun and will ensure that you don't find any other uses for the razor other than to clean up. I will be in the next room and remember you are always being watched. Don't fight me on this simple request David."

"I can already tell I'm dealing with a crazy son of bitch in you Calvetti. If watching another man shave gets you off than ….."

Calvetti merely smiled as he withdrew from the room and left the scowling man with Cassandra.

Starsky looked up at her. She really was a fine looking example of the opposite sex. Tightly clad in a revealing clinging dress that was designed to make men drool he wondered about her role in Calvetti's establishment.

"So Cassandra Darlin'? You here to watch me shave and if I don't behave…what are ya' gonna do? Kill me softly with your feminine moves?"

"I have my orders. Anthony likes his detainees to be clean-shaven and well presented before he deals with them. In particular he finds it unsettling if he cannot see your features clearly. So here – get up and go into the bathroom and take care of your bearded shadow. Try to do a clean job and not cut yourself. He likes an unmarked face."

"You say that stuff like you think it makes sense, like you think that it is normal to work for a man who wants this sort of crap. What are you doing here with this freak? "

Undeterred she repeated her demand.

"Get up now David. If I need to call the guard in I will. Get up and shave and be quick. Don't question me about myself or Anthony."

He was tempted to try and get some more information but figured there was little point when Calvetti himself was soon returning to speak to him. Better to save his efforts for him.

"Ok …but I thought the idea of you being here in that dress with that attitude meant you were gonna help me…assist me in some way. Isn't that your job? Sent in here to distract my mind and make my lower anatomy fuck up my head?"

"Last time. Get up. Move and shut up."

"Oh. So you're not here for a tease act? And here I was thinking Calvetti had sent me a little gift. Oh well. You don't want to come in here with me and help me do this?"

He was deliberately baiting and provoking her, driven by pent up frustration he felt the need to needle her to the point where she might show some emotion. But she was resilient and hard.

"I think David you'll have plenty enough of me 'assisting' and 'guiding' you in the next day or so without me touching you now. Believe me on that."

One look at her sharp eyes and he did.

Moving finally to the bathroom, he didn't follow up on her warning – he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He damn well would have that shave, but he'd do it for himself in order to feel fresher – not for some distorted idea of the man who was holding him captive.

Five minutes later the woman left the room with the shaving kit, but it was only minutes before the door opened again to re-admit Calvetti.

Starsky was sitting on the narrow bed with his back against the wall and his legs propped up almost willing the man to re-enter his small room. He wanted some answers, wanted some perspective on his situation here and going face to face with his captor was the only way he might get some.

The two men eyed each other, Calvetti standing over the seated Starsky who remained in a semi lounged position on the bed.

"I see you're clean-shaven now. Much better."

"So you had me brought all the way to this place, went to all this trouble to get me here..what? What for? I somehow don't think it was to make sure I got my daily shave. You gonna start to level with me Calvetti?"

"Get up off the bed David. Get up and come and stand before me."

"Oh another order….I see. This is how you like it. First I have to shave for you for some sick reason and now you don't like me lolling on the bed. Before you commented I wasn't usin' it now I'm havin' a nice rest here and you're tellin' me to get up. Surely you've got somethin' better to do with ya' time and I am already sick of spendin' time with you…..so…"

"Get up and stand before me."

His eyes narrowed now and a rush of anger filling his chest, Starsky uncoiled from his casual position and jumped forward to stand eye to eye with the withered face that was before him.

"I've had enough of you tellin' me what to do, now what is the game here!"

His face was pressed dangerously close to the other man's, so close that Starsky watched the surprise flare in the one good eye and felt the man's body recoil involuntarily. He took a few paces back to put distance between the two of them.

"What's wrong Calvetti? Uncomfortable when someone gets into your face? Don't worry I'm not looking at your scars, not interested in your face, only want to know what's going on? So start to talk to me."

"Get down on your knees David. Kneel down."

"What THE? Are you for real? You want me to kneel at your fuckin' feet?"

"Kneel down as I ordered you to do."

Calvetti clicked his fingers motioning to one of the cameras as he did so. Out of his peripheral vision Starsky was astounded when the door opened almost instantly and a thick chested bald headed guard entered the room with what was unmistakably a whip, its thong wrapped about his thick forearm, it's handle firm in his meaty hand.

"You're kiddin' me?"

He felt the sense of fear rise in him as he knew control of any description had slipped away.

"Down on your knees David."

Starsky stood his ground and glared – disgust at this man equaling his fear levels.

Calvetti gave an almost imperceptible nod to the meathead with the whip.

Braced for the burn of the lash he tried hard not to flinch and stifled the cry. With his chest bare the leather ripped a line of heat across his nude flesh.

He remained standing.

A second and then a third crack sounded in the small room and this time Starsky could not contain the cry nor the reflexive arch of his back as the cut found some depth into his hard muscled back.

"JESUS! You're mad!"

Not wanting to have his back shredded any more than necessary he fell heavily to his knees, gasping hard as he tried to will the pain to subside.

"There you fuckin' bastard! I'm down. Does that make you feel powerful? Big? Tell your muscle head to keep his fat hand away from me will ya?"

"Thank you Kurt. Step to the side. I believe that is all I require from you now. David has just learned his first lesson with me haven't you David?"

"Sure, I learned you've got some staff who'll do whatever you order them to do because you're too gutless to do it yourself."

"Don't antagonize me any more David. We've barely begun to know each other and I don't want your body destroyed before we start. I just need you to appreciate how I like and expect you to behave. I told you to kneel, all I want is your co-operation. Nothing more. Now that is better. The fact that you are kneeling is not about me overpowering you David. It is about you. What you tell yourself to do, what you expect of yourself."

Starsky looked up at him, sneering in bewilderment.

"Yeah sure it is. You tell yourself that Calvetti if it makes you feel any better. But where I come from when one man uses undue force on another to make him follow a command – that is a power trip."

"But what does this little example we've just seen tell you about yourself David?"

Starsky chose to remain mute.

"No? No thoughts? Well David. You could have done what I ordered you to do before you received the punishment. You had plenty of time. You saw the whip. You knew what was coming. Your choice David. Your call. It tells me that you were prepared to take three lashes before you had to follow what was an inevitable end point anyway. I would have made you kneel regardless. You just chose to suffer unnecessarily."

"Hey this might seem like some stunning psychological exercise to you Calvetti, but what is it all in aid of? Am I here to be some sort of science experiment for you? How long before the cop caves in? Is this it? Is this why I'm here? This is such shit! Maybe I just don't like having some dickhead muscle jock flayin' my skin off my back. If you brought me here to figure out how my mind and spirit works –"

Something settled on Calvetti's face – the uneffected half where expression and emotion could still be discerned and displayed. It was a definite reaction to Starsky's comment and Starsky knew that Calvetti was angry that he'd seen it.

"So that is why I'm here. Some sort of test or comparative measurement of what? Others? Have you done this with others? I'm not the first am I? Of course not? Not with this set up you've got here? What have you done with the others Calvetti? What do you do with them when you've finished playing with them? Abusing them? And ….your face…mine. We looked the same once didn't we? Tell me that's why I'm here. Because I looked like you once…before you were scarred?"

Calvetti looked down at Starsky, his twisted uneven mouth formed into a tight line. All at once his hand darted out and landed on the bare skin between shoulder and the neck beneath him and in the time that Starsky turned his head to look at Calvetti's hand the fingers pressed deeply, into the band of ropey muscle. Pain white and molten lanced down Starsky's arm and danced excruciatingly into his hand and fingertips. The touch relatively light had not been so firm as to initiate such agony and with an sharp intake of breath the two sets of blue eyes, one heavily distorted met each other. A shared knowledge ran between them.

Momentarily speechless with the scorching pain and the deadened arm Starsky breathed through it, the pain so intense that he thought its combined effect with the recent lashings and fatigue might be enough to knock him sideways.

He held his position and managed a forced hiss through a pained breath. It was clear that his captor was trained in hand to hand combat, an area not unfamiliar to Starsky himself.

"So Calvetti. You are capable of your own dirty work – you've brought a few tricks from where…the military? The Service? Well thanks for showing me your handiwork but don't expect any applause from me anytime soon. I don't think my hand is quite up to a clap."

"I'll leave you rest David. I've had quite enough of your smug humour for one morning. Just remember what you've learned here now. Next time we meet I'll be interested to see how much you have retained. I look forward to finding out more about you."

"Hey, maybe we can sit down on a real chair next time, have a man to man chat and share a drink or two. You can show me some more of your party tricks – maybe a different bruiser with perhaps a chain whip next time. Sounds mighty cozy Calvetti but I don't aim in filling you in on me or my life. All you need to know is that I'm a cop, now a missing cop, and that makes you a moving target. Cop friends and colleagues like to chase down moving targets who try to take out other cops – so I hope for your sake that your party tricks are all honed up."

"You are an intuitive man David. One with a fierce determination and a too cocky mouth for your own good. Be careful how you use those attributes around my abode. These might be admirable skills to have acquired in your line of work as a street cop – where you hunt on dirty streets for even dirtier criminals. But in my world David, you might find other behaviours are more usual for your survival."

He moved to toward the doorway where without requesting it, the beefy guard had already opened the door. Turning back he threw a last guised order.

"I suggest you wash your back. You're bleeding and you wouldn't want to soil the white sheets."

Until the door closed behind him Starsky hadn't realized how much he had been waiting for him to be out of the room. His superior coldness, sharp and inhumane enough to be nearly barbaric, combined with his contorted facial features were rapidly wearing down his limited reserves of courage and hope.

Still on his knees he gave into his sense of despair and fell forward onto the floor, crumpling into a tired heap, the burn on his back cutting into his raw sensory nerve endings.

Not sure any longer whether he was speaking it loud or just mouthing it, he welcomed the relief that the calming feel of the familiar word offered his tongue , mouth and mind. A balm to his rising helplessness.

It left his lips in a whispered breath.

"Hutch.

Hutch. I'm here...God knows where or why."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS


	10. Chapter 10

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 10**

* * *

The weak morning sun broke the sleep and for the first few moments' total disorientation overwhelmed him. There was some familiarity to the room but it was not, not his apartment, nor Starsky's. Then all too cruelly the harsh memory flooded in and assaulted every one of his senses.

Starsky was missing.

Gone again. Taken. Only yesterday. Was it only yesterday?

He had crashed at Huggy's upstairs room above the bar.

Day two of the hunt had just commenced.

He had wasted such valuable time by letting Huggy talking him into coming up here to rest.

It was…._Shit it was already 7.00!_

The body attached to his head felt like crap and his head governing his sluggish body felt even worse. Too little sleep, too much worry and two quick draughts of beer on an empty stomach and at two am had completed the trifecta.

Coming out of the small bathroom where he washed up roughly he saw the note on the small table. The tape recorder was sitting beside it.

_Hutch…Now don't go cursing me for letting you go to sleep last night. You were all in and you needed it. Go home have some food and phone me later. I'm gonna do a bit of digging around this morning …follow up a few things on that wacko's recording. Make sure you eat. In the kitchen you'll find some fresh pastries that the cook brings in most mornings to leave for the early opening staff. Grab a couple to take home with you to have with a coffee. Look after yourself man. Catch you later. P.S. I'll check with Rico to see that you got those pastries…you had no dinner last night and I guess no lunch yesterday either…you wasting away don't make Huggy a happy man and sure don't make Hutch a healthy one. And, the curly haired one will not be happy to know I have been neglecting my duties as stand-in minder._

In spite of his low spirits Huggy's personality jumping off the page and right into his face, had him smiling. It felt like the movement was stretching his face as it pulled against the stubborn worry lines that has been firmly in place since yesterday morning.

He let himself out, but took a quick detour via the small back kitchen to snag a couple of warm pastries that as promised, were waiting packed in a brown paper bag for him. The man who fit the bill for being Rico the cook smiled knowingly at him as he offered up a quick thanks.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It was only two hours later when he was ensconced at his desk with the recorder and another one of the Detectives on duty that he heard Huggy's voice again when he picked up his ringing phone.

"Huggy. You let me fall asleep last night. I…..look thanks for that. I needed it. Needed you to tell me that I needed that. Needed those pastries too. Thanks. You must have been up to an early start today."

"Glad to be of service my man. And you're right. I'm sufferin' here with this early morning light in my eyes. But I'm on a mission and nothin's too much to ask when it concerns the welfare of our dark curly haired friend now is it?"

"No it's not. I appreciated what ever you are able to do to help. Anything? I've come up with nothing beyond repeating inane words to myself like 'wolf' and 'vixen'. None of it means much to anyone in here either. Christ it's all so useless…"

"Well what I have to tell you ain't ground breakin' but it's something. After you crashed like a meteor to earth last night I got to thinkin' about that line….dark lonely men…dirty alleys or whatever…. particularly that bit about 'Nobodies''.

"Yeah? And?"

"And it made me think about what one of our regular but less than salubrious customers had been tellin' me about a coupla' weeks ago…so this morning I paid him a visit. He's from a not very nice part of this fair city and says that in the past two – three months there have been at least three men – between their twenties and thirties, gone missin'. These men are all wash-ups, ex druggies or ex mental patients – somethin' like that. Certainly what you would call the lower end of the spectrum on the social ladder."

"That's not unusual in a big city Hug. So many down and outers just disappear, we wouldn't know half of them."

"But that is the point my man. No one would…but this guy I know, he knew coz they were from his local area, used to cross their paths from time to time. Fact is they would be what you'd call a Nobody in a dirty alley. Get my drift?"

"Nobodies? Yes. But he said dead….or dark…dark? Black?"

"Well accordin' to my friend, err my associate, he said they all had dark hair….more specifically dark curly hair. And, one in particular he remembers having a drink in a bar with an upmarket looking woman who was obviously treating him. He clearly remembers it because she was so classy lookin' with this down and outer. Coupla days later he never saw him again."

"He didn't report it?"

"Hutch. This is the ghetto we're talking about here man. No one is interested in a missing druggie or homeless man. It was just worth noting so he remembered it when I asked him about the ….rash of guys that just disappeared from their normal beat."

"Shit. Dark, curly hair in early thirties. Starsky….but what was it…yeah. His light burns brighter than theirs. Shit. A woman. A classy woman. Perfume…broken down car. It must be that she was involved, the woman he phoned me about. Oh God, Starsk, you and your chivalry…..the bitch…fuckin' bitch!"

"The vixen's lair Hutch. He said you were wasting time with him while Starsky was probably in the vixen's lair….or something along those lines. And then the Wolf wants him too….and the blue. Don't get the blue."

Hutch glanced down at the paper of hand scrawled notes he had only just been going over for the twentieth time that morning.

"Window to the soul…blue…dark, curly hair, blue eyes, roughly Starsky's age. Blue eyes Huggy. Starsky's vivid blue eyes. A woman is hunting men who fit this description ….but when she took Starsky he was different. A brighter light than the other nobodies. Why? Why risk taking Starsky when there were other less dangerous targets?"

"Well Blondie that there is why they pay you the big bucks and I am but a humble barkeeper. But I will continue to keep my big ear to the bar and let you know."

"Huggy this is great! You've come up with more than our whole squad room could get in hours. Any chance you're going to give me the name of this friend of yours so I can interview him?"

"That is not an easy progression for me as you know."

"Huggy – please. I will not pressure him or push him and will turn a blind eye to everything illicit he might be involved in. You have my word on that. I'm not remotely interested in his extracurricular activities…just his account of this stuff. Don't make me use my badge here with you. This is Starsky we're talking about…"

"Don't need to twist the knife of sentimentality into me Hutch. I want him back and safe as much as you do. Meet me at the bar in twenty minutes. I'll be persuasive to my friend and let him know you'll go easy with him. "

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

So he figured maybe fifteen- sixteen hours since Calvetti had left the room. Only one other person had been back in since and that had been the haughty Cassandra who had entered without knocking. He recalled their brief interchange hours and hours ago now.

_Sitting slumped in a dull trance he almost jumped when the door opened._

"_Is it too much to ask that you knock? A guy likes a bit of privacy as much as a lady you know. I thought this was my private room, bein' a guest in this house and all? "_

_Not surprisingly she failed to react again to his off-hand humor._

"_I was to check that you had cleaned up your back. Have you?"_

"_Yep. The first thing I always feel like after a good whipping is a nice cool shower to freshen up. Gets the blood circulating all over again so I can bleed some more. Consider the order filled. You can go let your master know like a good little dog."_

_Not expecting the cool-headed woman to rise to the taunt she didn't disappoint him with her almost bored neutral façade that never altered with his smart remark. God she really was a cold piece of work._

"_Here is your main meal for the day and some fresh water. It is important to remain hydrated as well as fed. Your meal has no utensils as you can see."_

"_Yes I can Cassandra. What? Am I goin' to dig myself out with a fork, carve myself up with a knife? And a carton of water with a paper cup just in case I want to sever my artery with some broken glass. Is it goin' to get that bad for me in here do you think? That bad that I may need to resort to taking myself out?"_

"_Anthony has his reasons and these are the rules."_

"_Don't worry. I've already had a first hand experience of this sicko's ideas of rules. So. Want to stay for dinner? I am a great host and have known to wine and dine even the most …. reluctant ladies in my time. I know it's a humble meal to offer you, but hey." _

"_If I was you Mr. Starsky, I wouldn't be wasting my breath on trying to change anything here. You're here now. Don't fight it anymore."_

_All at once he was tired of toying with her and was filled with anger at what she represented. Her face showed no empathy, nor hint of understanding – only smugness and self fulfilled satisfaction. Was she gloating?_

"_Good point. You don't look like such a great dinner guest to have anyway. Remember to lock the door on the way out will ya? I like a challenge when I decide to make a break for it." _

_Starsky couldn't help but feel a small ripple of satisfaction at the shocked look on her hard young face. _

Now hours later he was stiff, cold and over- wired with tiredness. The lights burned as bright as when he had first entered the room even though he knew it must be late.

With no covers on the bed except a thin fitted sheet he was feeling cool, cold and exposed. His chest bare to the cool temperature in the room and only his thin linen drawstring pants for his legs, he craved for some extra clothing. The water in the bathroom only ran cold now so he couldn't warm up under its spray.

The raw stinging of his back in particular might have been soothed by some soft covering of fabric – to stop the air-conditioned breeze biting into its tender and traumatized flesh.

Sleep eluded him…not even a half hour respite from consciousness had been possible. Every time he lay down on the firm narrow bed and tried to close his eyes against the light, his mind ran fast and bright spots danced behind his lids.

He had balled himself up into a fetal position on his side, his hands over his eyes…still no blackness came to claim him.

So he had paced and paced the room. Drinking a little more water from the cardboard container, sipping at it sparingly because no one had come again to replenish it and the water in the bathroom tasted acrid and metallic.

Hours….hours…

Time passed.

His water was more than three-quarters gone, no more food had come…not that he was hungry, but he needed some distraction, something to focus on other than himself.

Wired up now. He was feeling wired and alert. Too alert. Almost anxiously alert.

He was still tired but couldn't sleep. Still fatigued but couldn't rest.

Feeling slow in his body and his muscles were like liquid honey, slow and sticky. But his mind, his mind was feeling like it was on fast forward and like molten lava, bubbling and dangerous.

Thoughts were coming into his mind from every direction and was willing his body to keep moving despite its heaviness, its bone aching tiredness.

_Christ almighty!_

If this what solitary confinement did to someone in less than twenty four hours what the hell would he be like in two days time? How long were they planning of keeping him like this?

The girl? Cassandra….her words had hinted that more lay in store for him.

_Outside of this room? Please God at Ieast get me out of this room because I can't take this box anymore._ _Already I am ready to climb the walls. No wonder there were no utensils left…I want to scratch a word on my forearm….Help…Help me. Get me the fucking hell out of here!_

_Hutch! Hutch! Am I yelling that out loud? Yes I am. Hutch! Get me the hell out of this hellhole! Come and get me now. I am going crazy. Something is wrong in my head now…something different. My head! It's …oh Man…._

He heard his own freakish laughter and watched his own agitated, jerky movements of his limbs…listened to his wild calling for a partner who could not hear him and could not possibly help him.

All movement stopped. He forced himself to take a deep breath, stood still and tried his best to make his fractured mind concentrate. To obey him and not his wild ramblings.

Something beside fear and anxiety of normal proportions was going on here. Head in his hands and rocking as though his whole body was going to break open he strode over again to take another drink of water. The water soothed his dry lips and eased his raw throat hoarse from his incessant ramblings over the past hours.

_Hydrate…you need to stay hydrated._

And the water in the carton was so cool and pure and fresh tasting…refreshing and so much more preferable in taste than the evil tasting water in the bathroom.

Suddenly he stopped. Looking down at the paper cup and the nearly empty carton, he dropped the cup, its contents spilling on the white tiled floor. With a violent swipe of his hand he sent the carton flying across the room.

"You bastard Calvetti! You want me awake? You want me hot-wired for you and your sick games? You want me crazy in my own head with no sleep and from my own mind fucking?"

The words were bellowed out at the cameras for all the good they would do.

"Next time you want me drugged you'll have to do it by force because I'm not drinking your poison anymore."

He crawled across the floor toward the narrow bed. As much as he would have liked to there was not enough room for his body to slide underneath it. The sheet was fixed to the mattress and he didn't have the energy to tear the fabric free. Colder than even before he crawled onto the small bed and resumed his closed in fetal position, he face pressed hard into his own forearms warding off whatever light he could.

_Bring on the morning whenever it is and whatever it might bring. Just get me out of this nothingness_.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSH

By the end of the day Hutch had begun to let go of hope. Let go of the hope that the lead Huggy had so magically uncovered that morning was going to come to anything that could lead him to Starsky. At least in the short term. Produce anything of value; produce anything, except more frustration and fruitlessness.

Nobodies weren't chosen as targets by the "vixen" for no reason. Nobodies were true to their name. They came from nothing, lived among no-one and their existence could be wiped away as though they had never been there in the first place.

Sad. It was really so sad Hutch thought to himself. Or it would have been if he had been in a more philosophical and humanitarian consciousness. That a single human being could leave behind such little in the way of a mark on the world that he lived in every day for say thirty years, such little residue, memories, allegiances, friends, noteworthy habits, everything and anything really. All that made up someone's boring humdrum life just swept away and no one or nothing behind to notice the life was gone.

After spending a long time with Huggy's friend on the streets Hutch knew there was a bigger story and a bigger crime behind the disappearance of the three young men. He also knew that by digging deeper he would likely find more men, more faceless lost souls… scouring the local precincts and morgue records would show something more up he knew.

But it would take time. Lots of time and lots of manpower to scour the neighborhood, to flush out the dirty alley rats and their network and to try to link it all back to any official reported missing individuals and or reported John Does who had spent time on the cold morgue slabs over the past months.

But Hutch's motivations weren't aligned with the bigger picture. He wasn't out to solve a cold case or cases and he wasn't out to break open some underground racket to kidnap dark haired blue-eyed men. No his intent was purely selfish and very specifically directed. He needed to get to the source of the organization and in real time…he wanted the case solved by the end of first day of gutting it open.

By nightfall he was berating himself. As at least four precincts had become involved and the local foot police hit their streets to probe the possible disappearances of other targets, Hutch wondered what he expected to come of Huggy's lead.

Did he really think that this contact of Hug's would describe the woman he had seen in the bar so perfectly that he could ID her within hours? That this nervous suspicious man from the ghettos could pinpoint with certain clarity where his partner was being held and why.

Dobey's words were ringing in his ears.

"This is good Hutch. Within one day Huggy has lead us to the source of what could well be Starsky's abduction. We've even got a very rough reason now as to why he was taken. Not about a case you two have, not Simon Marcus, but it looks like some organization that procures a particular type of target – based on looks and age group. Two precincts have already called in a likely two other missing males that had been reported by their drug counselors. They fit the description."

"Yes it's good …but we still have no direction as to who this woman is and where she has taken them."

"Well it's only a fresh lead …give it time. As yet we have no deaths or John Does reported fitting any of these missing individuals."

"I know. I have been checking with the updates every thirty minutes. But still – its nightfall again and no closer to where he is or who has taken him. Why the fuck haven't they made contact with us? What do they want with these men? What do they want with Starsky? And he is so different to the others. It doesn't make sense."

"You're getting frustrated too easily Hutch. If this was a normal case for you, hell you'd be well pleased with the speed it is unraveling."

"But it's not a normal case! It's Starsky for God's Sake! "

Hutch had the decency to censure himself and his rude scowl.

Retracting quickly he tried to make some amends.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to jump down your throat and everybody else's. I just can't control my …my fear…..I'm terrified that this is all too late already Cap'n. I'm terrified that the tone of these cold case disappearances has a death ring to it and that Starsky has been taken by some ….someone or some organisation that...it just seems so ominous. Disappearances and no bodies. And yet Marcus mentioned deaths. It sounds – it sounds sick and dark and terrifying."

"Maybe there aren't any bodies Hutch. Maybe Marcus can't see everything. Someone has gone to the trouble of taking men that have similar physical attributes – maybe not to kill them – maybe to keep them because they are valued for their physical features. Starsky is just another one of them and somehow he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got noticed and then taken."

"So Captain, you're thinking – what? If not a serial killer than this person has a penchant for guys that fit Starsky's description – and with blue eyes. For what? Some sort of slave trade? Christ, I guess that is the next logical assumption. If she or whom she takes them to doesn't want them dead, or at least dead straight away…they have some sort of use or function… "

"So we need to be looking into all the most recent known underground markets for slaves…..and don't look at me like that Hutch. I know. We're talking about a big playing field. And – we'll need to get other departments involved in this one."

Hutch slumped boneless onto the desk.

"Yeah, big playing field…could be the whole damn state and beyond…out of the whole fucking country and beyond. And somewhere…somewhere in this big ugly playing field of hell is my partner. I just pray to God that he's still alive."

"Of course he's still alive Hutch! You think that she…they…whoever these people are, would go to all of this trouble to line up taking a cop right from under our noses if they really didn't think he was valuable to them. He's obviously marketable …that's why they've gone out of their normal hunting ground as Marcus has called it in order to take him. It just wouldn't make sense to plan it all out so strategically and then just …. "

"Kill him? You can say it Cap'n. It's not like I haven't thought it for Christ's sake. And thanks, I appreciate your attempts to make me feel better but we're both cops for God's sake, we both know there are freaks out there that kill for a whole lot less….people who go to inordinate trouble to set up victims for a two minute kill."

"Hutch come on – you can't think like this. You've got to keep your head clear and your eye on the game. You always tell me that you two know when the other is in real jeopardy, when the other is….no longer around."

Too much. He couldn't take this conversation anymore. Too much and too close to his deepest fears.

"You're right. That's true. And right now my Starsky radar is telling me that he is in big trouble. So if you'll excuse me Cap'n…I need to contact at least two more precincts and to follow up with Huggy."

Dobey knew when he had reached his limit on hollow consolations. There was only such much he could do or say to try to make this troubled man feel any better and right now he was coming up empty on all of them.

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Camilla slammed the door closed behind him as he entered. It was not hard to read her mood; her fury was a billboard, lit up with pulsing neon lights.

"Where the hell have you been? You're supposed to be checking in with me on the phone at regular intervals and it's been hours since you've made contact!"

"I've damn well been where you told me to be Camilla. What is this? So now I'm supposed to be clock punching with you? Let off will you. No – back off! I'm tired of being treated like your punching bag and Boy Friday. I've been shadowing Hutchinson like you ordered me to do, that's where I've been. You told me to watch his every move. I've been doing that. He's shitting himself with fear that the kook Simon Marcus has his friend again. Running crazy looking for clues. No way is he on our tail or looking our way for his precious partner. Poor bastard…. I almost feel sorry for him. He really doesn't deserve this after what the two of them have just been through. "

"Requested you, not ordered. I asked you to follow him, to keep him under watch in case he somehow got our scent. You make me sound like some bitch tyrant. You and Fee are the same. Someone had to call the shots around here. And if I didn't take the lead? Listen to you. Full of sympathy for the Target who is going to pay our bills for the next few months or more. You can't afford to go soft on me Marty. I know this side of you and it never works in our favour. Don't go and cave in on me here. "

"Yeah well rest assured someone _is_ calling the shots around here and it sure isn't me. You need to step back a bit off this one Cam and chill a little. You're pushing too hard and in all the wrong directions. I'm here aren't I? What's the rush? Your Target has been handed over and I don't even get why I'm still needing to tag after his partner."

"Well you don't now I suppose. Yes it's done. You're right. The first part of the transaction is complete and Calvetti has his freaking precious blue eyed bundle. But….I'm not happy. Calvetti is pushing my buttons. I think you need to go in to prod him along a little or at least rattle him up some."

"Oh Christ, this is about the additional money you're still worried about?"

"Not additional. It's damn well not additional. It's inclusive. It's the total agreed amount that he owes me. A sum is still outstanding and I don't like it because it's a sizeable sum. A damn neat little sum that I need and that I've counted on. He owes me!"

"Thought the final money would come across when he on sells the cop at auction. Just chill. Just wait. Don't mess with a man like Anthony Calvetti. He's been good for the money, and with his word before, no reason for him to back down from his business obligations now."

"You think? Well I am not so sure Marty. This one – this cop – David Starsky is different. You know he's not like the others. You know he was a big cut above the rest of the Targets we took. You know he looks more like Calvetti's face before the injury than all of the others…and more importantly…his personality. He's just all around - different."

"Personality? As in?"

"Don't play dumb with me Marty. It's just not endearing and it won't wash with me. You know what this David Starsky is like. You've experienced the damn fired up, smart lipped, 'no one controls me' character that he is. I saw the way Calvetti looked at him. He was freaking falling over to get the party rolling with him. A couple of sessions with that sexy cop in front of the camera and Calvetti will be choking on the first take outs of his hot new property. He may never want to part with him! Which means I miss – _no we all miss _out on the very fat and juicy extra payout we expected."

"So what do you want me to do? Obviously as your hand servant that is my next job. So …. ? I have to tell you Camilla, riding Calvetti is not a good idea. Remember what your mama warned you? Don't try and bite the hand that feeds you. And with Calvetti – and his – well his tendencies, you better watch your step baby. He _just might_ turn around and bite your hand off."

"I'm just concerned that he is going to get a little bit too interested in this cop and not move forward into the auction where we get our next big piece of the money. You've seen him. You know what happens when he doesn't want to let go of a favorite plaything. It's not pretty and it's not good for my bank balance. Normally I wouldn't care. But this one – shit I know he'll bring good dollars at market. He's not some half dead dumb ass with his brain fried from years of heroin or coke. He's quality, and I want my share of that quality."

"So? What are you asking me here Camilla?"

"I want you to sniff around a little. Leave off on trailing the blond cop now. He's no longer our threat. Calvetti is. I want to know what he's going to do with Mr. Sexy Blue Eyes. I want to know that my money is coming – our money is coming. So, Marty, refocus – forget Hutchinson for now anyway. Our money is tied up in that dark haired blue eyed cop. Find out what Calvetti has planned for him."

"You know full well what he has planned for him. Well enough anyway. Who knows for sure what goes on behind those doors in those rooms with him? He's a complete nutcase. God help David Starsky that's all I can say."

"No Marty, God help us. It's our livelihood riding on that cop's back. I need you to monitor the situation. If things look like they're getting out of control – like they have done with others in the past – I want to know so we can intervene."

"Yeah Camilla you and me and what other army? You couldn't stop Calvetti no matter what he wants to do with that guy."

"Well I would just feel better knowing where we are heading with the auction. I want David Starsky to go to that auction Marty."

"Somehow I don't think either experience will make a discernible difference in quality to the cop. Which one is worse? Maybe he'd be better staying with the crazy Italian who likes to get off on screwing with guys heads or whatever it he does with them. I know what those buyers in the human market can do to a man or woman within a couple of days of taking possession of them. Freakin' kill them with sex. "

"I don't give a shit about what the cop feels or experiences!"

"Ah Dearest Camilla, forever the nurturing entrepreneur."

"Marty, cut it out will you…it's been a long couple of days. Have I got your agreement to move in closer to Calvetti before the auction?"

Marty took his time in answering her – his gaze long and slow, sweeping across her attractive face and her shapely body. He couldn't help however with some sadness to note her withholding countenance.

"Don't look at me like that Marty. Please. Don't do it."

"Camilla…. you ask so much from me, you give so little. How do you expect me to carry on like this? What happened to us? What we had? "

"Marty …" A pause. A breathy sigh. A decision reached. "Marty, it's all the same as it was. I've just been – just been trying to hold this business together for all of is. It's not easy. Frightening. Risky. Someone has to be in control. I'm sorry if I've seemed distant. "

"You've been more than distant. You've been miles away in your own little empire."

"Marty. It's late. I'm tired. So very tired."

Her elegant boned hand with its perfectly manicured fingers arched out toward him, finding his shoulder, smoothing down his stiff back, lingering on his hip, back to his waist.

"Camilla?"

"I'm tired Marty. Take me to bed and help me put this day behind me."

He felt the immediate disgust in himself for his almost pathetic response of joy at her most basic offer of attention or affection - whatever it was she was obliquely signalling to him with her sultry words. He knew that he would reach out with both hands and accept what she was prepared to give him – a pathetic offering. Just that and no more.

He would take what he could and he hated himself for doing it again.

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Time had gone by. Somehow it had passed and he had been aware of every sharp edged minute of it. Lit up like a fuse wire his mind was crackling and hissing, his body demanding to be released so it could flex, move, run, escape…but at the same time it was weak and fatigued. His bones were liquid but his muscles were taut and coiled – ready for action that was not going to happen.

How did he get through this night? Was it night? Morning? Middle of the day?

Time no longer measurable beyond the pain and frustration his body endured as a result of its passing. He had no reference points to mark himself against it.

All he knew is that he was burning up on the inside and freezing cold on the outside.

Huddled in the corner, his arms wrapped about his bare torso and his legs curled tight beneath his shaking form, he prayed for something, anything, as long as the moment he was in would pass. As long as another moment would come to him, one where he was safe and not alone in this harsh room.

As long as Hutch would come soon and take him away from here.

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Anthony Calvetti waited. He liked being in this room. This room was the theatre for his creations, this stage for his prowess. Here he could transform his skill into a production, his words and his techniques into a living, breathing, forever preserved showcase. To create filled him with a buoyancy that lifted him up, elevated his ego to the level it could truly shine – its full vibrant rays startling everyone, capturing the attention of all who watched him, listened to him, experienced him.

He was a specialist at his job. Highly qualified. He had heard references in other quarters to his group. Unfavourable references. He would not pay heed to them. Professional jealousy. There would always be those who would scorn his endeavours and condemn his extreme techniques to achieve masterpieces of creation.

Still he knew that he was revered and respected professionally by peers and colleagues. Yes - peers and colleagues. He refused to hear the terms others bantered around about his particular followers. About him. He preferred not to think of them as followers but as likeminded craftsmen. These were the people who eagerly sought his work and embraced his passions and were prepared to pay good money for his artistry. Others who understood the skill of his abilities to interrogate and to get the much needed facts. Like him they needed to protect their identities, protect their secrets, keep their "other" lives discreet and divorced from the public eye. They were a small and elite group of special people.

Forceful. Diligent. Relentless in his drive and ruthless in his pursuit of the goal. The goal to…..

He baulked. The words to describe his goal were difficult to form. The goal was difficult to describe, to conceptualise.

But the goal remained even though more abstract to him then it had been when he had first begun. As the years passed his "goal" it became even more intangible, more esoteric, and more academic.

The goal that had been once so defined and so concrete had begun to blur and then distort until now it was forever inestimable. The 'work' that he undertook with his subjects was an indefinable job, a task that had no clear beginning, no middle and often no clear end. He couldn't always be sure now each piece of work did in fact end. Did he end it? Did the subject? How could he begin to measure the success of his work? Were his goals ever truly met?

The work was meant to replenish and reinforce him. To put his dissembled mind back together. But increasingly it had only served to deplete him and to compartmentalise his shattered mind even further.

But no matter how many interrogations, how many atrocities he and his staff brought down on these unfortunate low lifers, these pathetic excuses for mankind, Calvetti found no respite from his own ailing – his own past. His attempt at flight from his own increasingly disturbed mind by seeking to break another mind that was as strong as his once was strong was only making him sicker. For no matter how many men he brought here to his interrogation rooms, those men who looked liked he once did, who so reminded him of his whole self, none of them could wipe away the injustices of what had been done to him.

None of them could be hurt enough to bring him relief. None could be punished enough for daring to live a life where they kept the looks that were once his, the strength that had once been his, the potential that had been so cruelly taken from him.

This one though…this David Starsky…. For the first time in months he felt the frisson of excitement and the anticipation of the game. This man who looked so very much like he knew he would now look if he were whole, called to him in the way that so many of the others before him had not.

There was so much he had already sensed in this man that he needed to test, to explore and to enjoy.

David Starsky needed to be punished in order for him to find the truth.

Calvetti's indefinable needs were clawing at his throat as he waited for the suspect to be brought before him but he forced himself to sit and savor the anticipation of what lay ahead.

Everything was ready, the stage set, the director in his chair and the tape rolling. He just needed the prime star.

The scuffling and yelling in the outside corridor heralded his arrival. He was close enough now to pick up the cursing words and the belligerent barrage of threats spewing from the distinctive Brooklyn accent.

Calvetti sat higher in his director's chair, noting with satisfaction correct direction of the peripheral and overhead lighting and once more leaned forward to adjust the small microphone in front of him.

The door darkened with the arrival of two burly guards each with an arm on either side of one very agitated and hyped up dark haired cop.

"Get your fuckin' meaty hands off me you freakin' bastards! I'm walkin' aren't I? Moving straight ahead? So back off will ya? Both of you."

"Let's just get him in the room before he ends up smashing his fists to hell! He's like some freakin' wildcat. Why weren't we allowed to cuff him? "

Calvetti threw a disparaging look at the flailing guards who were battling to control the dark haired cop.

"You are not to cuff him as I had requested that he be brought to me unbound. I will decide whether to cuff him."

"Well Mr. Calvetti Sir, we gotta tell you this guy is a damn handful. He is like some hellcat. Not sure what you've been giving him to take but he is crazy! Don't know how you're going to get him to co-operate – with …ahhhh …..Mikey get him…grab him!"

Starsky had wrestled himself half free, one arm and fist unensnared from the guard who had become fleetingly distracted while addressing his boss, he made quick work of bring his elbow up to crack under the man's jaw.

"Told ya to keep ya meaty hands off me ya asshole!"

The second guard doubled his efforts as the first reeled back with a screaming yelp, his hands clutched to his throbbing jaw. But the one guard seemed useless against the mania and the strength that Starsky was unleashing. Venting every bit of his pent up energy that he had harbored while crouched in that box of a room for the past twenty or more hours, the dark haired prisoner became a very efficient fighting machine. In no time he had the second guard down on the floor and was squeezing his thick throat while hurling expletives into the air.

"Fuckin' sick of all of this! Feel like I want to rip this place apart you bastards…I want out of here! Get me outta this place NOW or I swear I'll tear your throat open!"

Calvetti pushed a button near his chair. He debated whether to intervene himself but it was not how he liked to run the process. It was preferable that the order of the proceedings followed their normal flow. He was a neutral party until the interview commenced.

Within seconds it seemed a third guard arrived near the entrance of the room, the first guard now recovering from his smashed jaw to move back to pull Starsky from his working partner. The guard on the floor had begun to gag and splutter, his eyes bulging his lips bared as he tried to suck in breath.

The crack of the whip in the air as it whistled down filled the room and as it found its contact with his still tender flesh, Starsky jolted back and cried out. The vibrant pain stopped him in his tracks and his hands quickly fell away from the man's neck.

The third guard raised the whip again.

"NO! Only one. Just the one. His back is already marked up from the lashing yesterday. I don't want him too damaged just yet. Secure him now… quickly. Secure him with cuffs, behind his back….yes….good. Now lead him here to the center of the room. You are all sadly lacking in your abilities to do the one job you are paid handsomely to do. See that this poor performance and sad act of strength and poor control is not repeated. One drugged and weakened man has easily overpowered two of you. You disgrace yourselves."

"But Mr. Calvetti, he's so wired up…."

"Yes and also so much smarter than both ….all three of you. Strength alone, even supreme strength , is no match for strength, skill and intelligence combined. You may all have brawn but you lack the skill to use it to your advantage. Now go. Two of you are to be outside the door at all times during the interrogation. Send Cassandra in now."

The men withdrew as directed careful to say nothing in retaliation or in defense to their boss at the manner in which he had dealt with them. They knew too well what the repercussions would be.

Starsky stood before him in the middle of the room the hard stool behind him, Calvetti in front of him, seated so that the light pooled in front of him, casting his shape and form into dark blurry shadows.

Squinting against the bright stage lights, with his arms pulled tight behind his bare and smarting back and clad only in his loose linen drawstrings, Starsky surveyed the new setting into which he had just been thrust.

"So what now Calvetti? We gonna do some acting classes in here? What am I s'posed to perform on stage here under the spotlight for you or what?"

"David Starsky – Sergeant David Starsky I believe. That is your correct title is it not? And you serve as a Private Detective in the city police department."

"Hey maybe not acting classes….is this a courtroom? Are you the cross-examiner? You for the good guys or the bad guys Calvetti? Am I gonna have to swear on the bible first? I think you friggin' know who I am."

"Sit down please David. We may be here for a considerable amount of time and it would be more comfortable if you were sitting."

"Yeah, and I wouldn't be looking down at ya' either would I ? Hiding there in the dark like some sicko watchin' through a window. What the fuck is this all about?"

But he took a few steps back and sat down anyway. The light was glaringly bright at this standing angle and he moved back and down to ease the discomfort on his already burning eyes.

"You're very agitated aren't you David? No sleep last night I saw on the cameras that you have not been able to sleep for even a few minutes since you arrived here. That is why you are so very agitated and irritable."

"Really? Couldn't have anything to do with the fact that I'm being held against my will in some private prison and playin' whipping horse to your heavy handed thugs? Couldn't have anything to do with the fact that you fuckin' drugged my drinking water with some sort of uppers that made sure I couldn't sleep and probably won't for quite a while yet. Or, that you tried to freeze my balls off with that icy temperature and no covers or clothes?"

"Yes I saw that you were extremely uncomfortable with the cold and that you decided eventually to discard your drinking water."

"Your problem now Calvetti. Now you've got a hyped up prisoner on your hands with too much adrenalin flowin'. It was fun takin' out your sidekicks just then."

Hearing a noise he looked to the side to find Cassandra had quietly entered the room and was setting up something on a small side table.

"Oh so now you've brought back in your female sidekick. Whats the matter? Don't you like to be alone with me Calvetti? Hey...I'm starting to get a complex here. You keep bringing in your little helpers like you do we ain't _never_ gonna get a moment alone."

"We can be alone David – plenty of time for that. Cassandra is more reliable than some of my other staff and rarely disappoints me in her efforts to follow my instructions. She is here now to assist with my ….my interrogation of you."

"Your what? Your interrogation? So this is for real? You really do think we are here together for some formal interview? The lights, the setting…. shit you even have a microphone with voice distortion…. You're filming this aren't you? You're recording all of this like some freakin' movie? What is this place you run here Calvetti? You wanta interrogate me? For what?"

"For the purposes of revealing the truth of course David. That is why one interrogates. To get the truth. In order to have you impart to me the information I require from you."

"What fuckin' information? What do I know that you want to know? Is this about a case? Is this about my job? My being a cop?"

"This is about you David."

"Oh for ….what the shit does that mean? Come on, I'm running out of patience here with you ….you make no sense. Ask me now! What are the questions?"

"First let me advise you that Cassandra is here to help with my information gathering. She is trained to get the best results for me."

He'd been aware that she been preparing something, moving some items to the side of the room. She moved closer to him now and stepped away from the table. In doing so she revealed what she had been working on.

He saw now what her role was to be.

"T'rrific. Just t'rrific. Fuck you Calvetti…you _are_ insane. I freakin' knew it! "

On the small table she had set up and set alight a Bunsen burner…already the small inner conical blue flame dancing – signaling its threat to him. Beside the burner there was some clean small hand towels, some bowls of ice cubes and a flask of drinking water.

But it was what she held in her hands and what shone in her eyes that worried him the most.

The two together were potentially lethal.

Hard, bright, purposeful eyes stared straight into him without seeing him and in her hands she held one very large, glinting and very sharp knife.

"David. You need to concentrate on me as we begin the interview."

"And what about your little helper to the side? Is she here to make sure I concentrate?"

"Cassandra show David what you're here for seeing he is already demonstrating that he is prepared to overstep the boundaries of the interview."

Without a word she turned back to the table and placed the tip of the large metallic blade into the top part of the flame.

"Did you do science David? If you did you'll appreciate that the hottest part of the Bunsen's flame is just where Cassandra is holding the blade. Not in the central blue cone, but above it. But of course even without heat, blade tips inflict their own bite as I'm sure you appreciate, being an experienced street cop."

"All this trouble Calvetti. All this showmanship. For what? What have I got that you could possibly want or need to know? Just freakin' cut to the chase and ask me what you want to. I get it...you're the Bad Cop. So go on already. Ask the fuckin' questions will ya?"

"In this interview process – the process for which I received excellent training David, you need to understand that only I ask the questions. I ask, you answer, then I ask another and you answer. Now here is Cassandra to remind you what will happen when you refuse to adhere to the rules. You're a rule breaker, a renegade. I don't like them in my room. I will show you that I find that behavior unacceptable. Now Cassandra….."

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	11. Chapter 11

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 11**

Hutch contacted Huggy to keep him in the loop as promised.

"I interviewed your friend Huggy, and don't worry I kept the focus entirely on the investigation and not on his livelihood. In the end I didn't come away with an awful lot."

"What about the woman he saw with the missing dude?"

"Yeah he is with the Department artist as we speak but his memory was so sketchy and general that I'm not holding out any hope for that. Just described her as a classy looker with long hair and good clothes. She was only worth the mention because she was so far out of her stamping ground."

"And the missing men? You been able to get any leads on them?"

"No, only that like Marcus said …they were sad Nobodies. But we're tapping into all the surrounding precincts now and maybe we'll get others missing that fit the description. It could turn up something hotter than we've got now...which isn't anything. "

"You sound low my man."

"I _am_ low Hug. Just…just keep your eyes and ears open for me. Anything at all, anything. I just wish I could have turned up something with the broken down car and a tow company. That's where I need to be now, at that link because that's where Starsky went off the radar…from wherever he was making that call. I'm waiting on Dobey to get a time on how long it might take to get a record of my incoming calls ….and then try to get a fix on that line. Not that it will mean a lead either necessarily. I didn't even bother to ask him from where he was making the call…a house, business, phone booth? I can't believe I just let that pass...shit."

"So you thinking like me that the missing dude mighta been pulled into that bar by that woman to sweet talk him before he was snatched and that this mystery woman might be the same one who pulled Starsky across with the broken down car gig?"

"Possible. A female had been in his car not long before it was left in that side street yesterday. Starsky was diverted from coming to pick me up by a female in distress and the guy in the bar was with some upmarket woman. Could all be the same one. And if it is…then there is Marcus's "Vixen". And by now she might well have taken Starsky like the others he mentioned, to the "Wolf". Whoever the hell that is!"

"You figurin' on going back to pay Marcus, Kook Leader of the Cult another visit Blondie?"

"Yeah…if nothing turns in the next twelve hours or so, I'll be pushing for it. Maybe he has more of his sick dreams he wants to share with me. I'll use him in whatever way I can if I think there is any basis to the shit he spews out of his mouth. Christ knows he owes me big time for what he did to Starsky and I'll wring it out of him one way or the other."

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Marty had been shown into the large expanse that was Calvetti's living room and was instructed to help himself to the bar where any drink he might desire was available and a plate of snacks was laid out. Smiling civilly at the maid he declined alcohol, requesting instead a fresh coffee. He picked up the day's newspaper, took a seat in a high backed leather armchair and prepared himself to wait for the master of the house. Calvetti, he had been informed, was otherwise detained in a meeting in his study and the maid could not estimate how long the meeting would last. Perhaps she had suggested, Marty might prefer to return for his visit? After all he had called at the house unannounced and Mr. Calvetti had not been expecting him.

He knew that he had been presumptuous in the first place to arrive with no scheduled appointment, silently cursing Camilla for her usual pushiness. Marty brushed aside the maid's suggestion with some obvious embarrassment and hurriedly informed her that he would not mind waiting how ever long it took for Mr. Calvetti to be free.

Camilla wanted him to get the lay of the land with where Calvetti was going with her latest prized acquisition so he would stay until he had something to report back on David Starsky.

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"Now David I want you to try to pay attention to my questions. That is how this process works best. Try not to speak out of turn and concentrate on my flow of information gathering. Cassandra – please show David how I like to shape his behavior if he tends to veer away from my preferred system."

The heat radiating from the end of the stainless steel blade was discernible as the young apprentice closed her distance on him. He remained still and upright on the rigid stool and chose to look into her eyes despite that she was unseeing of his.

"Cassandra? You wanna hurt me with that? You wanna inflict pain on a bound man who has done nothin' to you or threatened you in anyway?" Starsky asked of her, a hint of confusion in his firm demand.

"Cassandra! Do _not_ let the suspect address you. Do as you are directed and proceed. Do not move David. To move could result in you incurring a fatal wound versus a small taste of discipline. Remain still and face your punishment."

"My punishment? You fuckhead! Why am I being punished? "

Before he knew it she had brought the hot tip of the knife down on his bare chest to press the tip neatly but not too deeply into the firm upper muscle of his pectoral. He smelled the sizzle of burned flesh before he felt the heat of the pain and the sharp penetration of the heated knife-edge. She then pressed the upper part of the flat edge of the broad blade against the skin leaving it sear for a moment, chest hair and flesh both sizzling now before she pulled the still hot knife back and away.

He grimaced and flinched, sucking air through his teeth and then hissed out as the real pain bit. But he did not yell out and there was no voice to his physical torment. He knew however from experience, that silence in the face of repeated torture was a time limited act.

Cassandra stepped back and looked at his chest where her branding cut had left its mark. Her eyes remained unavailable to him. Judging by her implacable face he sensed that she had learned to perfect, maybe long ago, the dissociation between her emotions and the inhumane actions she performed on others.

Calvetti addressed her formally.

"Thank you Cassandra, that is all for now. Prepare the knife again in case David proves to be an ongoing reluctant participant in this interview."

She nodded and returned to the side of the room out of the pool of the light. As she withdrew back into the shadows like some young witch to her dark circle, Starsky couldn't quell the menacing imagery of her hovering specter. Her lurking presence was unnerving, licking at the edges of his wavering control.

Through the haze of the subsiding pain and stinging burn he sought out Calvetti's dysmorphic face as he fought to re- focus on the distorted voice.

"Now David. Let's begin again. You are a Sergeant with several years of experience. Do you consider that you are good at your job?"

"Define 'Good' and I'll tell ya."

"Do you consider that you are effective? That you achieve your goals? Do you feel proud of what you do and believe you are an asset to the law enforcement system?"

"I do my best, win some lose some and yeah I'm proud of what I do every day. I could ask you the same question. Are you proud of what you do? Proud of what you're doin' now?"

The shadowed face went on as though he did not hear the retort.

"Proud in what way David?"

"Putting dirty scum away and cleaning the streets of vermin is an honorable profession. Even one less dirty asshole walking free is an achievement."

"And how do you decide who is corrupt and deserving of your own form of justice?"

"Good point Calvetti, because you see some of the true shit of this world, the real criminals of society ain't always so easy to identify. They hide away in big fancy houses like this one and use the little people on the fringes of society to do their work. That's why undercover work pays off. To find the people who create corruption, not just the losers who live on the edge of corruption, but the ones who feed it, build it. The ones with the real power."

_Like you, you fucking maniac._

"An honorable speech David and more than I've heard out of you since we've met. So it would seem that you are impassioned about what you do, your role in society as a keeper of justice."

"Calvetti, this is all nice us havin' a little sharing time about my job but can ya' freakin' tell me what the hell this is all about? I don't know about you but there're a hell of a lot more enjoyable things I'd rather be doin' than sittin' here being cross examined by someone I don't even know, for whatever reasons you are questioning me. And, I'd rather not have your little girlfriend watchin' me from the sidelines with a hot dagger she is just dyin' to gouge into my skin again."

"I don't believe that you are following the procedure of the interview David. Your attitude is disturbing and raises my suspicions of you."

"What're talking about here? What suspicions? Just ask me whatever question you want to ask as long as they make fuckin' sense...and I'll oblige with an answer if I feel like it. You wanna know about a case? Perhaps a criminal friend of yours you might be looking for information on something? But make your questions mean something will ya? You're doin' my head in with this psychological shit. We're goin' nowhere here."

"What makes you think I have questions about a case, or a particular criminal? Do you rate yourself so lowly that it has never occurred to you that it is you whom I am interested in here and not peripheral subjects?"

"Calvetti to be honest, I've got no freaking idea of what you're about or what you want. I'm done in. I got brought here after havin' been held by some crazed woman and her friends, drugged to the eyeballs. Then you shove me in a cell and try to freeze me to death, whip me into submission and now interrogate the hell out of me while your little bitch over there sticks a hot knife in my chest. Come on! What the fuck is the situation here?"

"You're disrupting the process again David. Cassandra please."

"Oh come on. For God's Sake! This is crazy! You want her to stab me again?"

This time when she approached with the hot dagger he didn't take it sitting down and sprang instantly to his feet. Bound as he was he could only shoulder her roughly as she approached him with the weapon held aloft.

"Back off Bitch! I'm not enjoying your little act! Take your knife and shove it somewhere else, preferably not into my body."

It gave him a level of satisfaction, fleeting he knew because repercussions would be harsh and quick, to see her lose her balance and teeter backward. Her center of balance was so displaced that she fell off to the side and landed heavily onto the jutting corner of the table.

Cassandra cried out and attempted to right herself but before he could wonder what her next move would be the room filled once more with the two burly meatheads who seemed to delight in moving in on him.

His body was smashed forcibly back against the wall behind the stool and thick clenched fists delivered a series of strategically placed gut punches which would have had him crumpling in agony except they took turns in holding his head high and his body upright as they ploughed their fists savagely into his midsection and lower back. He felt his head pulled back at an impossibly acute angle by the taller of the two who bunched his fingers into his thick curls, delivering a snarl of obscenities under his breath as he pushed his foul smelling face against his ear.

He was then lifted and pushed unceremoniously onto the hard stool. One of the men spat out a volley of caustic expletives as he turned away from him. Still remaining with a hold on him the second man squeezed his face and jaw tight, a waft of his foul smelling breath against his cheek as he whispered a filthy promise meant only for Starsky's ears.

"We like to play rough with the guys we get in here. You're getting me all excited with your moves. Maybe we can come by your pen later on blue eyes. Show you what we can do with our cocks and not just our fists. Ramming another part of you would be so sweet."

"Enough! Both of you. Pull back, you've done your job for now."

The violent storm, which had blown in was over as quickly as it had begun as they pulled back from his personal space.

Starsky closed his eyes against the agony that was ripping through every nerve ending in his central body. His core was vibrating with cramping shock, oxygen was impossible to suck into his chest and every bit of flesh above his hips and below his nipple line was screaming for some form of relief. They had laid into his mid section so mercilessly he half expected to taste fresh blood inside his mouth from internal bleeding.

The floor in front of him loomed dangerously close as it swam up to greet his eyes and he battled to remain upright and not give into the need to fall forward boneless onto its hard surface. Pride and grit mixed with inflamed anger kept him from pitching forward and as he tried to level his eyes at the amorphous shadowy face of his tormentor. The two guards pulled back and away completely then at the wave of the shadowed man's hand.

Coughing and wheezing he battled for each breath while he tried to think.

He admitted to himself that he was in a dire predicament. He considered the logistics of his perilous stance. With the disturbed young woman to his right and her controlling master in front of him, a small troop of armed guards outside and a fortress containing them all – there was no way he was going to be get out of this mess himself. At least not in one piece, at least not without first going through some further unimaginable pain and suffering.

"Now David. When I direct Cassandra to punish you it is your place to accept what is meted out to you. Get down on your knees before you fall to them."

"No...I'm F….….fine ….where I am."

"I repeat David get down on your knees."

"Gonna make me Calvetti? You gonna get off ya own ass to do it or get ya boys here to do ya' dirty work again?"

An inclination of the shadowy head and the guards were once more upon him. Starsky snarled at them and kicked out as they grabbed him roughly, their fingers digging into his upper arms with savage intent as they pulled him to the floor. The bigger of the two put his heeled boot onto his bleeding bare back and pushed down hard on his shoulder blades with the sharp heel, forcing his head down toward the floor.

"You think you're good at your job David. I know by your attitude and your smart mouth that you consider that you're better than me. You think you can outsmart me?"

"Not sayin' nothin'….not claimin' anything here. Just mindin' my own business, you're the one with the declarations."

"Answer my question. Do you think you're stronger than me? Does it look like you're strong now? Smarter now?"

"You think you're strong Calvetti? Then why're hidin'over there in the shadows? Call off your goons and deal with me yourself you freak. What the fuck are you tryin' to prove here? That you can wear me down, overpower me? Of course you can. Like this, of course you can. Is that what you wanna hear? Is that was this is about? Stroking your freakin' pussy ego by watchin' your goons punch the shit out of me?"

" I don't need to touch you David. Not when I command power for others to do it. My job, my skills lie in different areas. But even now, without my assistants I could overpower you. With just a touch of my hand on you I could bring you down screaming."

"Well good for you. Nice to know. I've already seen that you have some tactics that you've learned somewhere along the way. What went wrong in your life Calvetti? Did you fail the grade somewhere in the military? Get messed up bad by the government, in Vietnam, in the Special Forces? Is that what this is all about? Making up for your past? And whatever happened to your face? "

"Such a smart self-assurance you hold for yourself David. So sure you can work it all out.

"Hey, with the amount of hints you're givin' out to me in this interview about yourself - well lets just say it's not too hard to put two and two together. You've obviously been fucked up in the head somewhere in your life or your career haven't you? Does doing all this shit to others make ya' feel a bit better about ya'self?"

" Think you're intuitive David? Think you're on top of it all? If you are so good at your job, how did you end up here?"

"What do you mean? You know how it happened. I was ambushed by some mad bitch with a syringe full of dope. Didn't stand a chance."

"But if you and your partner are so skilled how did you let this happen? How did you end up in this room with me now? Overpowered and beaten? "

"Well ya' see it's not every day that a man expects when he stops to help a woman that he's gonna get a needle shoved in his arm for his troubles."

"You let down your guard. Let down your vigilance. Pure weakness. I've done my homework on you Sergeant Starsky. You've only recently been in a situation not too dissimilar to this one. Held hostage by a powerful force. "

Starsky tried a smiling sneer as he conjured up a look of shocked wonderment and surprise.

"Oh Shit! Don't tell me you're some copycat freak? You wanna be a cult leader too Calvetti? Well you've got some work to do. You're nothin' like Marcus. For a start your hair is too short and you got no beard. But then…hey…do you wear black robes when no-ones lookin'?"

"Your attempts at diversionary humor are puerile David."

"Yeah? Well if I knew what that insult meant, I'd be insulted."

"Your partner let you down."

Calvetti dropped the line like a stone into the space between them and was instantly rewarded with the splash it made.

Starsky's head snapped up, and his eyes flashed almost navy blue in the glaring light and Calvetti smiled to himself in the shadows. He had hit the mark he was seeking.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Just as I have said. I've watched, assessed and made a conclusion. If the two of you are so skilled at your job, then why did he fail to protect you from yet another abduction? Perhaps it is your partner that is the weak link in your working relationship. He has failed at his job."

"You know nothin' about my partner you piece of shit! Don't you even bring him into this sick cross-examination process of yours – your filthy world. Keep him out of it!"

"So protective of him! How gallant. You defend his honor and yet he was not honorable in his duties toward you. He got sloppy, negligent – pre-occupied and it became so easy for you to be taken again. Hutchinson let you down David. How does that feel?"

"I told you not to fuckin' mention his name! He did everything he could to prevent Marcus' people moving in again. I'm the one who got sloppy, stupid enough to listen to that bimbo!"

As Starsky's rage was reaching boiling point with the talk of Hutch, Calvetti diverted and changed his slant of questioning again.

"So tell me David…I'm curious. How many people have you killed? I assume you have killed in your line of work? In the force? Before you were on the force? Did you ever serve in the military David?"

"Who gives a fuck? And why ask? I'm sure you know more about me than I know about you. Of what interest is to you how many people I might have killed in the line of duty?"

"I'm interested, or I wouldn't ask. Is killing easy for you? Do you enjoy it?"

At this latest question Starsky felt his limits reaching the end. He let out an audible groan, frustrated to the maximum by this man's approach.

"Please just shut up. No more questions. Just leave me alone. I wanna get up off my damn knees now and I want ya' to just stop drillin' me."

"Alright you may stand up and return to the stool."

He waited until Starsky shuffled painfully back, grasping behind him with his cuffed hands to feel the stool and wincing as he pulled himself back up and onto the seat. His breathing was labored and he took some time to gingerly lower his body. The stool offered no back support but at least he was up off the ground and feeling more in control.

"Cassandra, bring David a cool drink of water. I'm afraid that he's not looking too well."

Firmer and more defined in her movements now, she was taking no chances with this reactive suspect. She was not used to such shows of blatant retaliation. Most of the "suspects" who were brought into this room were weaker and more pliable. Rarely did they seek to provoke the interrogator or to lash out at her. Normally her punitive measurements with the knife were only ever carried out as a threat or as a side entertainment for Calvetti when he failed to excite himself in any other way with the interview. This suspect was different and Calvetti's whole way of acting was different.

As a result Cassandra felt her own preparedness to take self-defensive action should he try to tackle her again.

"Here take the water. It's cool and will help to revive you."

"Don't want ya' water. Keep back."

For the first time he thought he saw a flash of indecision and perhaps panic flash in her unresponsive face.

"Mr. Calvetti wants you to drink."

"Fuck both of you then. I'll drink when I'm ready."

"Cassandra - you know what you need to do."

She hesitated for a fraction and earned a harsh repetition of her name.

"Cassandra!"

Starsky was sick of him. Wholeheartedly sick of him.

"Get off your ass ya'self if you wanta play the torture game Calvetti! You really are pissin' me off."

Had he wanted to incite him? Incite the egomaniac hiding in the dark? Ruthlessly ordering inflictions of pain upon him without touching him, without laying his hands upon him.

Torture and sadism by proxy.

Starsky knew he was inviting even more pain but he chose that over this insidious and drawn out stage play. Never a man fond of a lot of words, particularly words that were circuitous in argument and blatant plays at intellectual superiority, he challenged the shadowed face.

"Didn't ya hear me? You want to inflict more pain, then have the balls to deliver it yourself you gutless bag of wind. Shut up talking and get over here and face me down. Man to man."

"Your resilience is wavering. I can hear it in the urgency of your voice – a sound of desperation David. Cassandra move forward now."

" Ah come on Mr. Showman. Stop hiding behind the camera and come out here. You think you can stop everyone looking at your face just because you've created some home movie with terrible quality lighting? Stop worryin' about what you sound and look like on the playback. Get over here and try to stick your freakin ' hot knife in me yourself if that is what you want this dumb girl to do for you again. "

It was all that was needed in the end.

Satisfaction at his ability in getting Calvetti to capitulate was sharp. But it did little to dampen down the onslaught of biting pain in his back, chest and abdominals. As the blurred shadowed shape eventually moved forward, and into the light toward him, Starsky galvanized himself for this disturbed man's personal touch.

As Calvetti's scarred face loomed into the light his hand shot out like some writhing viper and his fingers deftly bit into his neck.

The pain was crippling and instant as it had been the last time he had felt Calvetti's touch yesterday. Unable to suppress his body's shock, Starsky let out a guttural scream as knowing fingers found their place where they could exact maximum damage.

He crashed heavily to the floor, his bound arms caught awkwardly beneath him as he continued to howl at the sensation. The excruciating fingers withdrew but the burning imprint of their penetration remained. It was as though he had lost all control of his lower limbs and his arms and hands burned and tingled.

It was obvious to him that Calvetti was skilled…. trained. A specialist of some kind. He tried to give it more consideration, to wonder about this man's professional background and what clues it might give him about who was holding him captive. But he had no time to dwell upon it any further when he once more felt radiating heat near his face.

_The fuckin' knife again…..Jesus No…._

"You wanted my attention David. You demanded I come to you and give you attention. I will make this special consideration for you as you have been so passionate in your request."

As Clavetti leaned in close to use the hot knife Starsky tensed briefly and then reacted. The knife wielding tormentor was caught unawares when Starsky lashed out with a burst of his own pent up violence. He brought the knee of his leg closest to Calvetti up suddenly and with precision to find it's target – smashing hard into the socket of Calvetti's good eye. Calvetti grunted as he was thrown back off his haunches, but the knife did not slip from his grasp. The sound that the bone of the knee made smacking into the bony orbit of the other man's eye promised bruising and swelling, maybe even a split to the skin around the eye. Starsky would have smiled if he could have made his lips perform the movement.

"Sadistic bastard! How do you like it? Hurts huh?"

Calvetti took little time in reclaiming the upper hand.

The hot blade did not just penetrate lightly like last time. This time the heat of the blade was pressed flat and very firm against his torso and held by Calvetti's own hand. The press of the branding steel continued longer than when Cassandra had applied it.

"You will learn not to demand my attention David. You will learn that you are weak and I am strong."

Gritting his teeth against the deep slow burn, he barely felt the knife turn on its edge and slice across his torso - once, twice leaving behind two long emblazoned white hot lines that quickly turned red. The long shallow cuts quickly suffused with blood and then filled to overflowing. Rivulets of red ran down his naked muscled torso and seeped into the drawstring band of his loose pants. Light colored material quickly darkened into deep red as the blood absorbed into the fibers.

The blade hot still, was again pressed to tender flesh, this time directly onto the open sliced skin. It ripped into his core, an electrical shock of agony that had him crying out - a short sharp scream no longer able to be contained. And then when the pressure of the hot metal was increased he screamed for longer, his whole body consumed with the fire of pain, his head tossing like a frantic wild horse's, his neck veins bulging with the effort to withstand the sensations coursing through his neural system.

The sizzle of singed flesh mingling with fresh blood was a sickening stench and the smell and the pain had Starsky gagging on a jet of uprising bile, his stomach finally protesting. For one panicked moment he fought to catch his breath, his throat and upper airway obstructed with bile, his nose stinging with the acrid smell of his own burned flesh and blood, he bucked on the floor desperate to suck in oxygen. Oxygen he desperately needed to breath through the levels of pain which were coursing through his centre.

The girl knowingly handed her superior a flask as he held out his opened palm to her. Calvetti pushed Starsky onto his back and holding his jerking body still with one hand, he poured icy cold water over his chest and bleeding scorched torso.

The instant relief was almost exquisite in it's impact and elicited a whimper of gratitude from the man he held down.

"You will learn that I have the power to hurt you and to take some of that hurt away David."

As he writhed and sobbed softly Starsky caught flashes of the animal's hideous face above him. With his scarred and puckered skin highlighted in the bright theatrical lights, the distorted eye squinted against the glare and tracked the man beneath him with its almost reptilian likeness.

Overwhelmed by pain and shock, Starsky thought the man above him was insane, profoundly cruel but also quite terrifying. In his traumatised state he likened the image of the man above him to some looming monster and all he wanted was to be away from him. To be left alone. To stop hurting.

He lay there fighting the blackness that threatened to take him, the combined effect of all that had been done to his body taking its physical toll at last; he struggled to articulate even a few words.

"Why? Why? Are ya'…doin' this? Why? Pl…..please jus….t tell me."

The reptilian eye came closer, the stretched and shiny scarred face so close that Starsky could see the individual striations in the taut puckers of the skin. Calvetti moved his hand beneath Starsky's lolling head and kneeling now beside him, he lifted the head toward him, a look of sick fascination in on his face as he fingered the texture of the dark curls.

A thumb lightly passed over the dark brow and almost in wonderment touched the eyelids of Starsky's deep vivid blue eyes. Calvetti hesitated, suspended in his own world for a moment as he stared at the perfect blue eyes. He let the head fall back roughly onto the floor and his hand went up to touch his own misshapen eye and ravaged skin.

Stricken and weak Starsky continued to watch his captor hovering above him before he felt a part of him disappear into himself, seeking a small amount of solace inside his own head.

_No more ...no more...please no more._

Calvetti may not have answered him with words, but his actions and the emotions so clearly featured on his good side of his face, told Starsky what he had already begun to know and fear.

He was here purely because he had the misfortune of sharing a strong resemblance to this highly disturbed and powerful man. Calvetti's aim was to make him suffer vicariously for being what he himself could no longer be.

So overwhelmed now by the cold fear and the burning hot pain, Starsky almost welcomed the sound of the next words he heard.

"Cassandra, bring the needle. I've finished with David for now."

_Please God, yes some oblivion. Take me away from here. Please Hutch take me away from here._

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	12. Chapter 12

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 12**

* * *

Dear Readers,

Sorry for the delay with this chapter. It's certainly not my usual style...but then of late time has seemed short and life does get in the way of a writer's intent...

* * *

In the cold white room with no windows and only cameras to watch him, he slept the deep sleep of the drugged.

Sedated and unconscious, for a few peaceful hours, time moved on without him, troubled thoughts and fear withdrew from his mind, sensations ceased to be felt and harsh, and punitive hands released his body back to him.

White blinding cruelty and pain had surrendered to black nothingness which came to carry him away - just for a while.

For more than five hours Starsky lay alone.

The slow ooze of blood clotted and dried, the white burn marks blistered and filled with serous fluid, purple and blue bruises from fists and squeezing hands began to bloom and darken his olive toned skin.

But unconsciousness held pain at bay and for five peaceful hours only oblivion claimed residence in his body.

But reality was waiting in another room and already it was getting hungry again.

Soon it would be hungry enough again to come to stake it's claim on his already beaten body and frayed mind.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The Precinct garage was largely devoid of people at this time of the day, the shifts had changed and the traffic in and out of the parking bays had slowed.

One car held an occupant though – an occupant who didn't look like he was about to drive anywhere soon. Who looked like he wasn't capable of commanding a car anywhere soon.

The red and white Torino, which had been brought back to the station garage, had now been cleared for use again after the forensics' team had finished with it.

And right now it was being used. It was being used as a form of comfort, as a haven for the stricken blond haired man who sat wooden, upright in the driver's seat, one hand on the steering wheel the other on the seat beside him. He chose that seat because it's contours held the shape of him, the upholstery held the smell and essence of him and whole car was simply imprinted with him - with Starsky.

Hutch had allowed himself this short break and he knew that if he hadn't come down here, hadn't taken ten minutes out of the squad room to come down and "be" with the closest part of Starsky that he could be with while at still at work, that he would have surely said or done something for which he would be sorry. Perhaps not sorry, no not sorry, but no doubt answering to his Captain about. Maybe even be told to take a hike from the case. The "case"...the case of his missing partner. The case of nothingness...what had Marcus called them? Nothings? Nobodies?

It seemed like Marcus was right this time. The Nobodies, the other victims in this case had meant there were no leads, no openings, no clues or directions to follow.

Nothing but dead leads, nothing but dead ends, nothing but nowhere.

That is how Hutch felt. That he was in the middle of nowhere. But Starsky was somewhere, taken somewhere. Frightened somewhere, hurting somewhere, alone somewhere.

The Torino held no answers. He knew that. The forensic guys had come up with nothing of value, no prints, no residue. Just that faint waft of perfume and a small wooden cross which Hutch knew now was most likely placed there purely to piss in his face. To rub salt into his wounds and to slow him down.

Well the trick had worked.

He felted pissed on, his still fresh wounds from Starsky last disappearance were on fire and the investigation had stalled before it even started.

The car held no answers and in some perverse way he felt anger toward it for that – as though this essential part of Starsky should surely have something to tell him, to share, to offer up to him as a way of helping him to locate its master. When he had first stormed out of the squad room with the intention of coming down to the garage bay where he knew the Torino was waiting for him like it was waiting him like some dutiful pet, he was ready to lash out at it. Like the car deserved to be punished for its failure to help him, to yield something up to him.

But when he had arrived beside it, fuming and hotheaded, the sheer sight of it had his breath hitching and the too close tears threatened and the anger slid away. The feel of the smooth paintwork gliding under his hand assuaged the mounting rage and the very feel of the familiar lines of it felt like a caress, a gentle caring touch.

He'd climbed inside quickly, knowing that he was on the edge of an emotional melt down and he needed the privacy of the car's interior to shield him from passer-byers. The interior enveloped him, folding about his tired and mentally strung out body and he was shocked at how instantly he felt Starsky's presence once inside of it.

And that is why he had come down here. He knew now. Not to berate the car but to be with a part of his partner. Even just a part. To sit and be by himself and this link to his friend. He needed to think without the buzz of the office, phones and chatter biting at his mind, without sympathetic glances and concerned frowns and false hollow hopes that everyone felt the need to keep throwing his way. He was starting to feel like some wild dog that everyone was trying to keep at bay, keep from their heels and from bounding up onto them in attack mode. They were all doing their best to restrain him behind some barrier and whenever it looked like he might break lose and charge them they threw him tidbits and scraps, shallow promises and pathetic reassurances that all would be ok with his missing other half.

"_Starsky can take care of himself, Starsky will be found, you'll find him don't you worry_, _it's only been a short while_….

He understood their concern for his behaviour and could see his own dangerous wildness in their worried eyes. The wild beast that was within him was struggling for release but the controlled side of him, the cold, hard, non emotional side, reined in his own rage and sheer bewilderment. Bewilderment and outrage at the world that something so traumatic could happen again so very quickly to his partner, to him, to the two of them. Just when all had become righted in their lives again.

Hutch knew better than anyone, more than the other officers who watched him, more than his concerned Captain, how close to the edge he was with this one. It was all too much, too soon, and he felt the control slipping away from him, the pull of the violence and grief in him just too great to manage. Soon, so very soon it would all come untethered, the wild dog would leap and attack, tear everyone apart with its fangs of fear and desolation, fight in a wild frenzy of claws and teeth until the rage and untold grief inside of him was all used up. He couldn't hold on to that part of him for much longer.

But now, for a short little while this symbol of Starsky had calmed the beast in him down. Starsky was here in this car with him, jabbing him lightly in the ribs, waggling his eyebrows in mock shock, pulling him back from his own self-destruction. He let the spirit of his closest friend seep into him, soothing the rankled anger as only his curly-haired partner could do. No one could pull Hutch out of a deep funk like Starsky could. But then no one could put him into a deeper depression either than Starsky could. Starsky could send him to levels of despair that he had never been to before purely and simply by not being beside him. When his friend was taken from him, then Hutch just slowly felt himself withering by increments. The violent anger and rage was here now but once it was unleashed there would only be black deep depression.

He sank deeper into the well-worn upholstery and relaxed his bone breaking grip on the steering wheel. If he closed his eyes he could almost feel the worn grip, the demarcations left from Starsky's hands and fingers. Perhaps not…but he wanted to feel it so he let his mind tell him so.

Ten minutes.

He would allow ten minutes with himself inside this familiar interior, the interior that housed so very much of their everyday life experiences. Here they shared so many things , eating, joking, fighting, solving cases, bantering….and as much as he openly stated his dislike for the red and white piece of metal on wheels, he knew that it was a big part of both of them, a big part of their bonded partnership.

Besides, Starsky loved the piece of red and white shit, and right now, anything that was close to Starsky was where Hutch wanted to be.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

The maid had announced that Calvetti was finally about to join him. It had been a long and increasingly tortuous wait and Marty had just been about to give the whole idea up and take his leave. After all he wasn't even sure if the enigmatic Master of the house was just testing him out by leaving him hanging for so long or if he had in fact been genuinely detained in some business endeavor.

From his vantage point on the sofa he had a wide-open view of the foyer area and the entrance to the large living room and Marty was able to watch Calvetti walk into the room, filling the empty void with his haughty presence.

Surreptitiously he glanced down to catch the time on his watch. An hour and a half! He had been waiting here an hour and a half and his level of frustration had been mounting increasingly in the past twenty minutes.

Calvetti motioned to the maid as she hovered anxiously in the doorway.

"Bring me fresh coffee – strong like I prefer it, and another ice pack if you would."

It was immediately obvious why Calvetti had asked for an icepack. The unaffected side of his face was showing the beginnings of what promised to be a shiner, a dark bruising blooming on the crest of his cheekbone and covering his eye and brow area.

The scarred face turned toward Marty now and the close scrutiny directed at him unnerved him, the frustration at having been left waiting changing to something closer to disquiet and foreboding.

"Calvetti. I hope you don't mind that I elected to wait to see you until you had completed your business. I hadn't realized you were going to be caught up for quite so long. I should have re-scheduled, I'm sorry."

"Well I'm here now. I have some time now for a short while before I have other matters to follow up. What is so urgent that you felt the need to wait for – my staff have reported – over an hour to see me?"

Marty looked at Calvetti's attire – immaculately dressed in what was obviously a high end European business suit with a crisp white collar and sharp cuffs. Expensive gold cufflinks glinted at the cuff and Marty's eyes were drawn to them and then to something else on the white starched band.

Red, bright and stark.

Fresh blood, a streak of it across the pure white of the cuff. Then higher on his shirt front, near where the lapel fell open, a myriad of fine dots spotted the fine grade linen with the same bright crimson. Not thick or heavy in its saturation, but spattered and light like a spraying blood vessel had left its telltale mark.

Calvetti followed the other man's gaze down to where his eyes had rested on the splotches of red and he quickly pulled down his sleeve of his suit coat to cover the cuff and just as quickly repositioned his lapel to oppose the coat's sides and to hide the worse of the fresh blood.

"You've been injured? Your eye?" But even as he noted it and spoke it out loud, Marty had already calculated that the blood that Calvetti wore was not from his bruising eye.

The maid had arrived with the coffee and the icepack and already Calvetti was reclining in the luxurious high backed chair, the cold pack pressed gently to his obviously tender eye.

"The eye will heal."

That simple brief response was all that Marty knew he was going to hear on the matter.

"Why are you here Marty? No – I am sure I already know the answer to that question. Camilla has sent you hasn't she? So you're her errand boy now is that it?"

"We need to know what your plans are with the newest arrival – the cop. Camilla has high hopes for what he will bring in at auction."

"And? Camilla has high hopes for more money is that right? Always was and still is a greedy bitch. I noticed you used the term "we" ? Are you working with her exclusively these days? I seem to recall you had a few other business endeavors that held your interest and once upon a time I thought you were showing promise at breaking into new ground. You're good at surveillance and information gathering Marty…. your days as a PI have left you with some admirable skills."

"So? What about it?"

"I don't know…" Calvetti swilled the coffee cup and looked thoughtful. "Just curious as to why you continue to throw your lot in with the Ice Queen, why you let Camilla call your shots. Seems to me that you do and that woman called Fiona do the work and she takes the cream."

" I'm not interested in getting into Camilla's and my relationship."

"Relationship?" He openly smiled at this word, his distorted mouth pulling more into a sneer and giving the word the effect that he really meant to convey. Marty wanted to deepen the bruising on his eye for that.

"Marty, when are you going to learn that there is no relationship with Camilla? You don't have any relationship with that woman, no one ever will. She uses you like she uses everyone. And then when your worth is used up she will discard you."

"Look, what are your plans for David Starsky? There's an auction in two days. Camilla was hoping you'd have finished with him in time for it."

"Oh was she? And what business is it of hers what I do with David Starsky. He is mine now."

"She made it very clear Calvetti that the first payment occurred at the handover and the second cut came when you got the final price for him at the auction."

"I like the word you chose to use Marty…"finished" …..that I had "finished with him" by then. What do you mean by "finished"?"

"Cut the semantics Calvetti. I just want to know if you're showing him then. Selling him. Or – are you planning on keeping him longer? He won't get as much if you keep him too long or mess about with him too much."

"And what would you know about my "messing about" with him?"

"I don't know Calvetti. I've got no fucking idea what it is you do with these guys we bring to you. Something to do with porn movies I suppose. It's what you do isn't it? Your bag? You've got some sort of small movie studio here somewhere..."

He looked around now as he said it almost quizzically as it occurred to him for the first time that he had no idea where there might be the room for any such studio in this house. From the outside, albeit luxuriously appointed, it did not look overly large, nor suited to a house where one would expect to find a recording studio. All cut glass windows and balconies.

My point is the longer you keep him and use him, the less value he has in the market. You know we get more for them when they're still clean, unmarked….not used up."

"Oh Marty. More? You have no idea. If you could see what money my "messing" about with the subjects gets in my world of business connections, you'd change your mind about auctions. Sure I send a lot of the taken subjects to auction – but ones like this one – like David – he's prime stock. I can probably make four times what I'd pull for him at auction by selling my productions where he stars center stage."

"You mean like porn or quasi snuff movies?

"I've made them too…but with subjects like David…there is even more scope. A lot more scope. It's more...let me say intellectually stimulating as well as physical. Aimed at the thinking man. There is a market out there for what I can achieve with him on film. A small but elite market. And they will continue to pay over and over for good quality work with subjects that perform so beautifully for the camera – like David has already show me can."

"You're being too oblique Calvetti." But even as he said this, he knew it wasn't really true. His eyes caught again on the still bright splatter of red, the spray of blood. Even with oblique commentary the blood stains lit the way for at least a degree of understanding. Words themselves, explanations – they were not totally necessary.

Marty pictured the cop in his head as he remembered him and he looked at the man opposite him, almost glowing with an inner energy, a look of fulfilment. And he considered the blood, the bruised eye...the length of time he had been made to wait for the supposed "meeting" to be wound up. No one else had left the house nor come in since he had been waiting here. He would have seen or heard them.

Calvetti had been detained, late in coming to this talk with him, not because he was ensconced in a business meeting in his library, but more than likely because he had been knee-deep in some nefarious activity, game, pastime.

A game that had involved the cop. A game that involved bloodshed. The activity whatever it was might have resulted in Calvetti walking away with a God Almighty of a shiner, but it in no way diminished the glow of satisfaction and fervent pride that filled his face as he directed his words at Marty.

"What I'm saying to you Marty is that maybe it's time you severed your times with a woman who is using your skills and rewarding you with what I suspect is nothing more than a level of emotional dependence. I'm not privy to your financial agreements with her but my guess is that you and her little blond female friend are doing all of the work and getting little of the pay. You're stuck in this situation because you're emotionally tangled with her."

"You know nothing of my personal life Calvetti, so stay out of it."

"Alright then, let's put your pathetic love life aside. I will cut to the chase. I need another good man to hunt for me. I've watched you – you're good. Moreover I like your methodology, I like your manner. You're not as inclined as Camilla to become irrational or demanding….both behaviours which she is beginning to display more and more during our business dealings. So you have the skills to get what I want and do it with care. Cut out Camilla – come straight to me with the subjects. I'll provide everything you need to acquire them – transport, stooges, backup – I just need you as the hunter and gatherer. I have a healthy appetite Marty, and so do my associates. I will pay you handsomely for your services. You brought me a fine subject in David. I cannot tell you how pleased I am with him. Acquire more like him and you will be living comfortably in no time Marty – living comfortably and have Camilla off your back."

"Look Calvetti, I don't know what sorta shit goes on here and I don't wanna know what sorta shit goes on here...you wanted him, you got him. He wasn't my find anyway; he was Camilla and Fee's. I just did the shitkicking surveillance on him and brought in the background that we used for the take. "

"Nonetheless it shows that you understand my preferences and that you can arrange a safe and carefully orchestrated take. The fact also remains I want to cut Camilla out of the picture. I have grown weary of her and her petulant demands for more and more money. I want you to work for me."

"Look, I'm flattered Calvetti, but this ain't my scene. You and your ….. your…"

"My what? I think it is fair to say that you have no real understanding of why I want subjects like David. You think this is all about some dirty sex slave industry? You think I bring him here to fuck him senseless or watch others do the same? Sometimes yes. With others, certainly. But the big money to be had is not by taking men like David to auction, but taking his strength and cultivating it for my productions. Two, three sessions with him can fetch an amount of money twice what I would get for him on the market. He is a different caliber to the usual meat we move at the auctions. I want you to get me more like him."

Marty let the words settle between them all the while watching the disfigured cool-headed man who was likewise appraising him. Calvetti seemed to be considering something, turning it over in his mind, before he eventually spoke again.

"I want you to take something with you when you leave here. Don't make up your mind now. Just consider my proposal. I will have my assistant bring in a taped version of some film footage. Watch it. Think about it. This is what brings big money Marty. Then let me know if you want to be part of it with me."

"Film footage of what?"

"You'll soon see. It is only the first session, so early in the relationship that I will be able to form with David…but you can see the potential of it, the sheer strength and scope of what I have to work with in him. I will not be taking David to auction Marty – I have no intention. Go tell your precious Camilla that and let her rant and rage at me. It matters little to me what the hysterical bitch thinks."

He turned and picked up the phone beside him on the coffee table. It was clear he was making an internal call to somewhere within his house.

"Yes…how close are you to getting the cut done? No, just leave it rough – I just want to provide a copy to a business associate. Good. Also can you bring through one of the machines also? He will be waiting in the main living room."

Replacing the receiver, Calvetti stood. It was an obvious signal that the interview was coming to a close. Marty was being dismissed.

"One of my production assistants is bringing you a copy of my recent interview with David Starsky. I will provide you with a playing machine also. Take it home Marty. Watch it, think about the potential."

"You're prepared to let me walk out of here with something as incriminating as what it sounds? Involving a cop? An abducted cop?"

"Abducted by you and your associates Marty, not me…. remember that. And yes, I am trusting you with the tape. You're a smart man; you've been around enough to understand consequences when power gets tested. Obviously you know what to expect from me if I discover you have disseminated the tape's material or its content to anyone else. I am offering you a wonderful business opportunity – a step up from your private dick work gathering fodder for Camilla. Time to move on in life Marty. You're already got your toes dirty, so you might as well put your whole body in and reap the benefits. It's a deep dark pool Marty. Why remain on the edge in the shallows? I expect to hear back from you in less than twenty-four hours and for the tape to be returned. It cannot be copied should you consider trying to do so."

He held out his hand to Marty and more out of reflex than social decorum, Marty shook the proffered hand.

"I will be contactable tomorrow when you choose to get back to me with your decision. Now if you will excuse me, I need to clean up."

He brushed his hand lightly over his shirt front skimming it over the hardening crust of blood. The remnants of whatever had recently transpired with David Starsky, Marty thought. The remnants that betrayed the nature of what he was soon going to be privy to once the promised tape was in his hands.

Before Marty could even formulate a response, or wonder anymore at the sick implications of a blood stained designer shirt, Calvetti was gone.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

He awoke to a woman's touch.

It was so very obviously a female hand, hands that were touching him, moving him, breathing near enough to him that he could smell the distinctive feminine smell that was woman.

The touch was not gently though, more economical in its movement, more clinical and methodical, not soothing and caring. And it did little to ease the raw surface pain and the deeper ache inside of him. His body was hurting and someone, a woman was tending to him.

She came into focus at the same time as his memory lurched back into gear and the whole shuddering nightmare settled once more like a cold blanket around him.

_Oh fuck, on no…..I am here. In this place…with this madman and this cold faced girl who wants only to hurt me….and the guards who want to pummel and smash and…_

With dread he also remembered their threats of what they wished to use him for if they got the chance. His body was being used as a vessel for too many of these predators inside of this sick establishment. He was being used up. He was feeling used up and beaten and sore.

The hands were still upon him and as he saw her face and watched her movements as she turned to once more wring out a warm cloth in a basin of what smelled like antiseptic and water, he recalled her actions toward him earlier. These same hands that cleaned and patted his chest and abdominal wounds were the same hands that had inflicted the damage.

He wanted to push her away, to tell her to leave him, to take her duplicitous hands away from his body. What good was a hand that offered repair and restoration when it had already offered pain and torture.? What good was a hand that tried to make something better when he was quite sure that the same hand would seek to inflict more damage at the next opportunity?

The words were slow to come to his mouth but he needed them to be there – it felt important to let her know that she was wasting her own time and only angering him by her contradictory actions.

"Cassandra."

But even though he spoke her name she did not look at him.

"Cassandra" he repeated. "You like to mind fuck people?"

"I am cleaning your wounds David."

"No, you're mind fuckin' me. First you try to hurt me than you wipe up the blood and the gore. For what? Scared you're going to run out of fresh skin to burn and stab? Move away from me. I don't want you touching me you two-faced sadist. You don't get to inflict pain and then try to make it better. I don't work like that. I take no comfort in your nurse role here. Your hands are only made for hurtin' Cassandra. You can't make it better; you don't get to try to do that – least not with me. Now move away."

"I have been given my instructions to take care of your wounds. Mr. Calvetti prefers to avoid infections."

Starsky had to laugh now – it would have been almost hilarious had it not been so pathetically depraved. Her statement, her demeanor – so grave, so earnest, so fucking disordered.

"Perhaps you and Calvetti should do some basic first aid training. If he don't like infections in his prisoners, he shouldn't keep sticking sharp pointy things into us and maybe lay off the burning and the whipping. Jesus…I've got to …."

His skin felt overly taut and pulling, his muscles screaming in pain from the heavy blows that had been rained down on him, the effort to even roll a little was costing him every bit of reserve he had left. Despite the protest from every fiber in his body he knew he had to try to at least get himself semi upright. He knew he must have been out of it for a few hours at least, and his chest felt constricted and tight. It was important to get his lungs expanding as much as he could, given the tenderness in his chest. Gasping and groaning his way through the worst of it, he finally had his traumatized body into a semi inclined sit, before he collapsed against the wall with a deep moan.

"Leave the stuff. I'll clean the cuts and burns myself. I need some water – fresh water. No fucking dope in it. Am I gonna be allowed any?"

"This is pure water. No additions. Trust me."

"Oh sure honey. Like you are so trustworthy. But hey, right now I just need fluid and fast, so I'm gonna have to take ya word on it."

She and offered him up a canister that was beading with condensation – cool and so soothing to his throat he was tempted to swallow the lot in one rush. He fought back the desire to do so and instead, forced himself to monitor his consumption.

"You need to eat something. You've been asleep for a long while now and nourishment is essential."

She indicated the plate with a covered sandwich and cut fruit.

"Yeah, sorta like fattening the goat up for the slaughter. Leave it there. I'm sorta all out of appetite at the moment. Funny how a good beating takes ya' mind off food."

When she offered nothing more in the way of information, Starsky shifted uncomfortably in his semi sitting position, wincing noticeably and bracing him tender middle.

"You know Cassandra, I'm not likely to last too long if this is the daily routine at your bosses house. I'm not feelin' too good and I've only had round one with him. I don't think I could take another bout like that one and I'm wonderin' how you're feelin' knowing that you've got yourself in way over your head with this sicko. Helpin' your boss to torture a cop isn't going to look too good on your work sheet is it? You prepared to go down with him on this? You prepared to go to jail for the rest of your young life and more because some asshole has some sort of influence over you to carry out his sick fantasies?"

"Mr. Calvetti prefers that I don't converse with you."

"I'm sure he prefers that. He'd much rather you just stab me, burn me, hurt me. But listen to what I'm sayin' to you. How old are you Cassandra? You don't even look more than twenty and you choose this life? Why? Very soon your life here, and your life anywhere could be over – and you'll be looking at spending the rest of it in a cell only half as pretty as this boring box of a room. I'm a cop Cassandra. It's a serious offence to attempt to or to kill a cop."

"No one knows you're here. No one will. No one knows what is happening to you or what will happen to you. So – don't try to threaten or scare me – you have no power here. Mr. Calvetti is the power here."

And as she said the words she did actually look toward his face directly this time and the conviction in her youthful voice was striking in its inflection.

She moved her hands to once more press the warm medicinal smelling cloth over his lower torso.

Powerless to stop the flinch and the hiss of pain he pulled back and gasped. The sudden movement only caused more pain and he held his forearm pressed hard against his lower gut.

"Shit...This is the ...oh damn. Look Cassandra can you give me something' for this...for all of this. I feel like I don't know which part of me is going to explode first. If you're bothering to douse me in antiseptic can't ya at least give me some aspirin? This...oh fuck..."

In the end he gave up on the notion of trying to sit up for his breathing and very gradually with slow and careful moves, he lower himself back down to a supine position and gasped and moaned as the pain rode through his body in tumultuous waves.

"Your damn guards sure know how to do a number on a guy... oh fuck...please ...please will ya' get me something for the burns and ribs."

"Will you agree to lie still and allow me to finish cleaning these knife wounds?"

"Will it get me some pills if I do?"

He felt pathetic in begging but the pain was swarming all around and through him now and he could barely think through the red haze of it.

"Yes. But if I don't get this done and your burns dressed with cream, Mr. Calvetti will say I have failed. I'm warning you David. If you let me fail at this, then I will allow the guards in. They are wanting to come in. You know that. Mr Calvetti is occupied elsewhere for the next hour or more. I know that and they know that. What's it to be David?"

"You win bitch. I'll take you and your hands over some meatheads and their horny dicks. But then I want the pills for the pain. I won't place nice anymore if I don't get somethin' for this freakin' pain. We clear about this honey?"

"Just lie still and don't fight me. I have a job to do and I need to get it done."

He tried to lie still and allow her to continue with her tasks but just the very touch of her thin cold hands on him filled him with as much discomfort as the deep ache that was coursing through his body. He equated those hands with brutal touch and her face made him want to cringe and turn away. Never had he hated the feel of a woman's hand on his body so much. There was nothing even remotely sexual about what she was doing to him and yet he still felt like part of him was being violated in a sensual way as well as physical.

As he was feeling this sensation she made a move toward the drawstring band of his pants where they lay already low near his hip. She pulled and tugged, dragging them down over his pubes and lower onto his upper thighs.

He jolted upright and then smashed back down again as the pain slammed in to him. He fumbled desperately to retrieve the migrating pants and pull them back up over his hips.

"What! Leave my fuckin' pants will ya? Get your bony hands of my private parts!"

"I have to take these pants off David. They are saturated in blood. Lift up and help me. Don't fight ...we agreed on this."

"We agreed that you could tend to my wounds, not lay me naked in front of you...Christ!"

"You want me to help you change your pants or not? I can leave them on, not very comfortable, or I can do this now and you won't have Mr. Calvetti make other arrangements to have them changed later on. He does not like to look upon blood stained clothing. He prefers you to look fresh."

Resignation took over and pain capped off any inclination to fight the point anymore.

His body sagged helplessly back onto the narrow cot and he wondered if what he felt in the corner of his eyes was dampness of unshed tears. He didn't know anymore...his body was overwhelmed by so many sensations he could barely tell.

He let her pull the stained and bloodied pants from his lower body and turned his face to the wall as she bathed the dried blood from his naked groin.

He shut up from that point on...worn out completely from the spasms of shooting pain and his own attempts at bravado in the face of this unbelievably cold girl. Everytime her hands pressed or wiped, touched or pulled, he could not help compare the touch to Hutch's calm, gentle almost meditative ministrations. Often times he didn't even feel the need for pain medication, so restorative was his touch, so calming and soothing was his manner.

He pushed the comparison roughly out of his pain wrecked mind. No way. No way could he afford to think about that now. Already he was in a zone that was testing his resolve not to let go and simply cry, simply cave in, simply give up.

One thought of Hutch's kindness, caring and protectiveness would be all it would take to bring him crashing down - mind body and soul.

Cassandra was right of course.

No one did know he was here. Did Hutch even have an inkling of where he would have gone? Where he was? How could he? He himself had no real idea where he was or why. How could he? Taken by Camilla in such a devious and calculated way, a woman from nowhere with no connections to either of them, except some fleeting meeting on the sidewalk the other day when his car had stalled outside her restaurant. Would he somehow be able to link anything about his disappearance back to that meeting, to her? It seemed like such a long shot. How would Hutch even come close to tracking down her role in his abduction. And anyway, he was nolonger with her, having been moved on to Calvetti and some private fortress God knew where?

This stony faced young girl was so very right. The power was all with Calvetti.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It was late now. It had gone dark a long time ago and he still hadn't bothered to turn the lights or the lamps on but continued to sit with the sound of the film whirring at its end point, grey and white snow flickering in the stillness of the darkening room. He preferred the grey and the white to the colour – less confrontative to his senses.

After having forced himself to watch the whole thing through twice he could still see the bright red flashes of the cop's blood, the dripping, snaking line of it as it coursed down his sliced torso.

Worse than the colors though, had been the sound.

The sound of Calvetti's monotone, penetrative and relentless questioning of the man he held prisoner in the room. The sounds of David Starsky's deep moans and guttural gasps as clenched meaty fists drove repeatedly into his hardened flesh. The sounds of his hissing breath as he fought against a scream that wanted freedom when hot metal pressed into proud, open flesh.

Worse than all of it though had been the realization that he was complicit in all of its horror.

David Starsky was a homicide cop, a Detective in the city police department and one who was highly regarded and valued as one half of a formidable team. David Starsky was now a captured man who already had been brutalized and threatened and very likely was facing a gruesome future and almost certain death.

Had he ever considered this was what happened to the men that he helped abduct and deliver to Calvetti, to this monster?

Marty stood and turned the machine off, the room falling into grey blackness and the whirring sound jarring to a stop.

He fumbled for the table lamp and for the bottle of whiskey. He tipped the bottle to his glass. The level of spirit reached three-quarters of the way up the tumbler before he stopped pouring and shrank to less than a third of that amount after his first deep swallow. He coughed and gagged against the onslaught of such a fiery stream, caustic on his constricted throat. But the amber spirit did little to stop the shaking in his hands and the nausea in his gut.

The film had finished, the credits had rolled, lights were coming back on in the theatre.

But still he could see the red and hear the screams and the quiet sobs.

The colours and the sounds of a tortured man.

The movie wouldn't stop playing in his mind.

The longer he sat nursing his drink and seeing the images, stills now,burned into his brain, the greater his resolve became.

This man, this deranged and very dangerous Calvetti had not only involved him in his sick world, but by virtue of providing him with this tape, this evidence, he had now placed him in an invidious position.

Already he was culpable, an accessory to the human sex slave trafficking underworld…but with Calvetti's latest job offer and this film providing him with clear evidence of his corruption, Marty had been placed in a frightening position.

He was now part of the sticky web of Calvetti's filthy business and he was backed up against a wall. To turn down Calvetti would spell the certain end of him – he knew deep in himself that he was not expected to refuse this man, for already, by virtue of this tape, he knew far too much.

And yet go _with_ him would also be disastrous for him because Camilla would seek her own revenge and when she attempted to take Calvetti down, he would go down with him.

And in the middle of it all – somewhere in the deepest part of his mind where emotion touched his thoughts, Marty's sense of morality butted heads with the memory of the cop's moans of agony and the spray of his blood. He saw in his mind's eye the two friends, one dark and one blond walking outside to their car, laughing, joking, jostling with each other, he heard the worried echo of Hutchinson's words in that bar that night, sick with worry for his friend, wanting to protect him from any further harm….and he felt shame wash through him.

That level of camaraderie, that partner to partner trust, that deep abiding loyalty that he had found himself admiring had been ripped apart so savagely by his own actions. He had helped sever Starsky from his partner. He had been responsible for putting him in that room with the ghoulish Calvetti. He had left the blond out there running around in increasingly smaller circles finding nothing to help him rescue his partner. And of course he never would. That was how this business, this market worked. Once taken, one never stood a chance of tracking down the missing person. Not of course that the ones that were chosen to be taken were likely to be missed by anyone. It worked better that way. Cleaner, neater and more efficient.

But even if the one taken was like this cop, Starsky, one who _belonged - _ it didn't matter. No matter who missed him, who cared for him, who loved him. He was still lost forever. The blond detective, Hutchinson just didn't appreciate that yet. Even a cop wouldn't be found, wouldn't be traced. Too many powerful people in too many sick mindsets. Designed to forever erase an identity and use the person up until there was nothing left of them. Nothing that was of any use to anyone ever again anyway. Fucked over forever.

Marty knew how the game worked and he had told himself for too many months that he was a long way down the food chain from the big fish. That was how he justified it to himself. Just a burned out private investigator using his know how to bring in some easy cash. It wasn't as if he did the dirty work. Wasn't as if he was one of them who paid for human flesh to be used up till there was nothing left to use.

Fear for himself warred with shame and self-disgust.

Either way the fear would remain – to do what he was thinking of doing could lead to his demise, but so too would to do nothing. Either way, he knew fear was here to stay for now at least. Nothing to be done about it.

But his shame and self-disgust – there was a light at the end of that dark tunnel.

David Starsky was a good cop, moreover he was a good man. As was his desperate partner Hutchinson.

Marty hoped that part of him still was too.

Christ he hoped so.

Gathering the tape and the machine and pushing them quickly but carefully into a black carry case, he grabbed his car keys left the still unfinished drink on the side table.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS'


	13. Chapter 13

**ONLY IF HIS EYES ARE BLUE**

**CHAPTER 13**

* * *

He'd been sitting parked outside the downtown bar for over fifteen minutes now…just sitting, staring hard at the black case beside him on the passenger seat**.** Once he had done what he was planning to do his fate was sealed and so he allowed himself this respite, this delay before he opened the car door, stepped out and walked into the bar.

He knew the skinny black bar owner called Huggy Bear would be there – after all he had found himself coming to this bar for the past week on and off to either watch the two detectives or to follow up on the Hutchinson as he found solace in the last day or two by sharing some moments with his barkeeper friend.

This place was the link, the conduit between himself and the blond detective Hutchinson and it was the surest way he knew to communicate indirectly with him. One thing was for sure; he was not prepared to deal directly with him – not by any means. His surveillance of the man prior to his partner being taken and in the tumultuous days since he had been, had proved to Marty that dealing with Hutchinson directly would be a volatile and risky move. His own involvement in David Starsky's abduction would leave him wide open to certain jeopardy if he was to come forward now and reveal his hand in the disappearance of Hutchinson's partner. And yet, he knew now what he had to do because the fear of facing Hutchinson and all the repercussions of opening up to him paled in comparison to the fear of living with his own self-loathing.

With the black bag under his arm he moved purposefully to the most secluded table he could find free, for at this late hour the patrons were still out in force and the smoke-filled room was noisy and full of life. A quick visual sweep of the area revealed no tall, white blond head and almost with relief Marty exhaled and waited. He wasn't sure what he would have done had he happened upon Hutchinson here tonight. The thought of coming across him while he had what he had in his arms, while he held what he held in that tape about his missing partner, was just too confronting. Marty thought he may well have high tailed it out of the bar and back to the safety of his car – for fear that the graphic and brutal images contained in the tape under his arm hands would someone be discernible to Hutchinson's heightened senses. As if by simply laying his eyes on the offending black bag would be enough to forewarn him of what had befallen his partner.

It was not long before a waitress came to him, her pad out and her tired head cocked on the side in anticipation for his order. He gave it to her but also gave her a serious look of intent.

"I need to speak to Huggy Bear. Could you get him to come to the table for a few minutes?"

"Well sure honey, I'll ask him but it's a busy time of the night and he probably won't take too kindly to being pulled away from the bar. Are you one of his friends? Can't say I know your face?"

"No he doesn't know me, but please can you tell him it's very important that I speak with him. Tell him – tell him I have information that he will definitely want to hear and that it concerns his two cop friends."

Her look took on wariness now and she narrowed her eyes down at him.

"Ok I'll go get your drink and I'll let Hug know – but I sure hope you ain't here to cause trouble for him."

"I promise I'm not. He'll want to see me. I'm here to try to help."

He followed her path back to the bar with his eyes and saw her lean in to speak into the black man's ear, saw him swerve his head quickly in his direction and purposely held his gaze as when Huggy's eyes found his. A few words were exchanged between him and the waitress before the loudly dressed barkeeper swept up the drink the waitress had poured for him and made his way over to his table.

The long line of him slipped into the chair opposite him and contrary to what he had come to expect from his observations of the this man there was not a hint of the colorful or extravagant tone in his speech when he addressed him. The approach was guarded, his face serious and his words direct.

"So? I don't believe I know you but you claim to have something for me? What and why?"

Too late now, he was in front of Hutchinson's friend, he had already disclosed his missive to the waitress and had one foot in the door. To back out now would be pointless because by the look on the black man's face, he would waste no time in alerting Hutchinson about him.

"I don't want to deal with your friend directly. I know you'll pass this on to him – he needs to know, needs to see it. Take it – the machine is there too. I don't want it back, any of it."

The bag was pushed across the table towards Huggy and Marty let go of it with shaking fingers. He gave it one more final small shove as if ridding himself of its contamination.

Huggy lifted the flap of the bag with one finger and his eyes flashed up to Marty's face.

"By friend you mean - ?"

"Your cop friend – Hutchinson. I just want you to give this to him and keep me out of it. At least for now until I can figure out what the hell I'm going to do."

"Who are you and how did you get this? I presume this is to do with Detective Starsky, missing Detective Starsky. What's on this? Is this a set up for blackmail, extortion?"

"No – It's not like that. I'm not here for money or for ….for anything but to try to help Hutchinson. That's all I'm saying. Just make sure he gets it. I want to – look – I just want to help him, Hutchinson. I know he's looking and I know he's desperate."

Marty took one quick swallow of his drink and pushed away from the table.

"I've got to get out of here."

"Come on my Man! You just can't dump this and leave. Give me more. You say you want to help Hutch, and then give me something more to take to him. Your name, a contact – will this tape lead us to Starsky?"

"No that is all I can give you for now. I need to think, shit I need to think and I just can't keep this. …that….information to myself. I'll call him. Tell him, I'll call him. But I need to take care of some things first. And …he'll need some time to – to adjust to this new information. I don't want to have my head smashed open just because I'm the messenger here."

"Please, just wait…before you go. Tell me now. Tell me. Is this tape what I think it could be? Is – is Starsky dead? I need to know to prepare Hutch."

The fear was alive on Huggy's face.

Marty wanted to reassure this man who was obviously very close to Calvetti's latest victim, a lot closer than Marty had first realized when he had come here.

"No – he wasn't when I last saw him and he wasn't when this was made. But tell your friend, time is not on his side if he wants to find his partner alive and …. in one piece. Where he is, well – its not a good place to be."

As Huggy was mulling the words over, Marty turned and swept out of the bar. Huggy thought briefly about pulling a couple of guys from the bar and sending them after him to detain him, but then quickly recalculated how smart that move would be. The man said he would get back in touch with Hutch – and his co-operation was imperative. He had no authority to restrain or hold him, irrespective of his connection with his law-enforcement friends.

No, right now he would be best to move this new information onto Hutch as quickly as possible. He picked the bag up carefully and left for the small back room where he could talk more privately on the phone.

When Hutch came on the line Huggy could almost see the weary resignation as he heard it in his voice. Huggy didn't know what was on the tape sitting on his small cluttered office table, and he didn't imagine it would be anything good and it was the quality of "how bad" it was that worried him now. But the tape at least promised something, something other than nothing and he wanted so badly to be able to give some hope to the battle weary voice on the end of the line.

"Hutch – its Hug. You need to drop whatever you're doin' man and get down here now. Unless you want me to come to you, but…"

"No. No, I'll be there. What is it? Shit Huggy what is it?"

"It's news on Starsky, I don't know what, you need to be the one to find out. A guy has come in and left a tape and a fancy playing machine, small projector thing – that's all I know. He told me a few things else but you need to get here now. I'll fill you in on the rest when I see you. How long before you can make it here? Hutch? Hutch?"

But the phone line was already dead, buzzing softly in his ear. Huggy saw the squad room in his mind and picture that Hutch was already out the door.

He started to clear his desk and move the machine into the middle of the disarray, positioning it so that it would direct the image to the scuffed white wall behind his chair.

The tape wound tightly onto the spools filled him with both dread and hope.

_Please God, please, let this be something that will help us find him. Please don't let this be something that will destroy Hutch._

_SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSH_

The bitch had defaulted on her agreement. In his rough estimation Cassandra must have left the room around thirty minutes ago, promising to return to with the pain medication as per their deal. His rough estimation was very rough, for so clouded was his brain with the black edges of pain that it might have been hours since she had closed the heavy door behind her and left him huddled in a pathetic heap on the narrow bed.

Pathetic was the right word. He felt it deep into his bones and filling his senses. It pushed away any sense of strength or fight he had left in him, and he hated himself for it. He hated feeling like this, like he'd given up so soon, so early in the fight. It was nothing like his usual style. But this was bad. Really bad. And it had come too fast on the heels of Marcus and his black robed goons, too soon after he'd been saved in the final moment by Hutch, too soon after he'd begun to think that he was once more safe and that his life was back on to even ground.

Pathetic. It was pathetic that he was giving up hope when he knew that Hutch would never do that. Never give up hope on finding him. But God damn it, he didn't know how he could keep going on with a pretense that he could absorb whatever this animal Calvetti was dealing out to him and whatever he still had in store for him.

As the memory of the scarred and contorted face filled his head the face materialized in front of him. Starsky squinted hard and shook his throbbing head. Had he brought this manifestation into the room with his mind or was it real? And then the curled and twisted lip moved and the voice spoke and once more the nightmare was breathing beside his ear.

"Are you real or just another of my mind bending nightmares? It's hard to tell you with you Calvetti. You're a nightmare period. "

"I hear that you have asked Cassandra for pain medication David."

Cassandra had slipped in quietly behind Calvetti and was standing to the side, deferent, as Starsky had come to expect her to be. Deferent and so ready to please this sick deranged man she so honored.

"Yep. You've heard right. How about it? Gonna let me have some drugs that do somethin' other than fuck my mind up? Or I guess that is too much to ask huh?"

"I have some pills here for you. I understand you must be in considerable discomfort."

"Well shit, I've had better days."

"Is it always necessary for you to try to one up me David?"

"Yes, it makes me feel just that little bit better when I feel so damn lousy. So, if you don't want my crap then why keep me? Have you had enough games now? Are you finished with me? Can I pack up my stuff and clear out now? Somehow I don't think you're gonna let me go are you? Well than give me some fucking pain relief you sadist, or finish the job, cos' I'm getting near the end here."

"I know you are David. I can feel it. We are very close now aren't we? Are we as close as when you were held by Simon Marcus's followers? Is this how you felt when you were trapped and tortured by them David? I'm sure this is all frighteningly reminiscent for you. "

It was frightening that he had spoken the words and even more frightening that Starsky knew them to be true.

"I knew it. I knew that you were comparing this whole game and bag of tricks you have got going with me to him. Can't you get any original ideas of your own Calvetti? "

"My plans for you have nothing in common with what his people were trying to accomplish with you David. I am merely curious to understand how the human mind works. I am sure that the whole event is still fresh in your mind - for you and for your partner Detective Hutchinson. You do realise that Camilla and her colleagues were adept enough to make it look like you'd been taken by Marcus' cult once again? Poor over wrought Hutchinson. From what I've heard he's suffering as much as you are, re-living the sordid event. At least you know you're not with Marcus' lot, he doesn't."

His information and background on Hutch had him slumping further into himself, his physical pain doubling as he thought of what his frantic friend would be going through out there on the outside. Of course he would assume that the cult had taken him again - it was a natural assumption and worse yet was the guilt he felt at the light resentment of all of Hutch's watchfulness of him over the past weeks. He'd come close to pushing Hutch completely away when he couldn't contend any longer with Hutch's hyper vigilance. The need to see him and tell him how sorry and how wrong he had been to brush Hutch's concerns away was incredibly strong. He ached with the loss of the connection they shared every day.

"Shut up! Shut up! You know nothing about what I went through with Marcus, you know nothing about what Hutch went through and you know nothing about him. Nothing you hear me! You think he's not able to work out some thin trail cover staged by that stupid bitch friend of yours?"

"Well the answer to that is sitting right in front of me at this very moment David. You are still here with me and looking sicker by the moment. Your partner and the Police have not been led to my door by Camilla - so her trail must be covered. And your partner has been enjoying a reunion with the famous cult leader - getting to know Simon Marcus all over again. Now maybe he is following up on the trail cover Camilla laid or maybe he just likes sharing time with Marcus. That in itself must be hard for him don't you think?"

He wanted to rip hard at Calvetti for those statements - for getting enjoyment out of watching him struggle with the imagery of Hutch locked in a prison interview room once more with the psychotic cult leader, trying beyond all hope to get reason and answers from his sick convoluted mind. He knew how very much the time with Marcus had fucked Hutch's mind up and how he himself came so close to the edge with the whole experience. But that is exactly what Calvetti wanted and as much as he wanted to use his last bit of pent up energy to wipe the supercilious look off the scarred man's face, Starsky chose to push down his rage and try once more to antagonise him with his smart mouth. If nothing else it helped to quell the hard knot of worry he felt for Hutch as well as himself.

They were both being forced to relive the fear of one month ago.

"Nah...Hutch loves all that psychological interplay stuff. He was born for it. Me - I'm more of an action man myself."

With the statement hanging in the air between them Calvetti swung suddenly to the woman beside him.

"Cassandra! Look at his face. He is unshaven, unkempt. You know that is not how I like to see him."

"Mr. Calvetti, I could barely get him to allow me to clean his wounds and to change his clothing. He is far from co-operative. He is – well – sir – I find him difficult to manage – I'm sorry."

In a whirl of movement he turned on her and Starsky heard the retort of the slap before he realized the intent of Calvetti's arcing arm. It was a full on palmar slap, so the force and strike were less powerful than had he backhanded her. Nonetheless the sound of flesh on flesh and the unexpected propulsion of his hand left Starsky flinching involuntarily.

Cassandra remained upright though her head jerked back as the open palm made contact, her face white with the livid red of one cheek standing out, her eye watering and flickering with the force of the blow.

"You have simple orders why can't you follow them? Go now and prepare the shave and don't waste anymore of my time."

Reeling from the unexpected attack she still pulled herself together enough to nod a shaky agreement and left the room.

Starsky felt the disgust swirl in his gut – disgust at both of them, disgust that Cassandra had grown to allow herself to be treated like this and that Calvetti obviously made a habit of treating her in this way. She might have deserved lots of things, but not this.

"So does that sorta thing make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside Calvetti? Ya' like beating up on young girls?"

"She knows her place and discipline is something she knows that I will never back down on."

"What happened to you in life? You get knocked around by your father? Flogged by your teacher? Have ya' face pushed into the mud by your corporal in the army? What Calvetti? What has made you want to push your authority and your idea of righteous discipline and punishment onto others? Where did you get all fucked up in life? Come on. Come on Calvetti. I ain't got no where else to go and nowhere else to be – plenty of time to listen to your sad stories. Tell me. Tell me your sick life story, your excuses for being such a mad fucker now."

"I want you be quiet David."

"Too close to the truth now? Too close for you Calvetti? Come on …what's the story with you. If you don't tell me than all of this showmanship is gonna be wasted. Surely you want to tell me all about yourself."

Cassandra re-entered the room.

The red cheek had faded and her face was once more a mask of pale white - almost ethereal except for the dark hard eyes that shone just a little too brightly as she regarded Calvetti nervously.

Starsky allowed her to shave him. He had already made the decision to succumb to her ministrations this time without a fight. For one he was exhausted and in true discomfort, held up by only the scarcest resolve, and secondly, he didn't have it in him for any more pain, not even someone else's and least of all a young woman who was lost to herself.

The half faced man watched the simple efficient and mechanical activity of his assistant shaving his prisoner with an almost hypnotic gaze. Starsky hated the shriveled eye that followed every stroke of Cassandra's thin white hand as the blade slid down his cheek and under his throat, patted his neck and face with the soft warm towel, brushing the damp curls from his forehead. The good eye, the vivid blue healthy eye watched him too. Starsky felt like two men were regarding him at once, not just one. The two halves of a man who had been disfigured and fractured – his mind now more damaged, more distorted than his face.

Starsky wondered if he might actually wake up from this horror. For surely it was too ugly, too surreal to be possible. And by just having that very thought he knew that he was nearing the point where he could take no more.

"I've let her shave me. You got what you wanted. Now I need those damn pills…."

"I have your pills here David. See? Three of them – within fifteen minutes you will be free of this pain."

A small plastic vial was held up to his face and Starsky heard the luring rattle of tiny pills. A promise to soothe, a reprieve from electric pain, the sound of the small pills had him reaching unsteadily towards the container. Then, his stubborn pride intervened and his hand that sought comfort jerked back.

Calvetti still held the container aloft.

Starsky looked up through pain filled eyes. He knew then when he caught the triumph in the one bright blue eye that this was to be yet another test.

"Kneel down David and hold out your hand for the pills. Hold out your hand and I will fill it with relief, an end to your suffering for at least a few hours."

It was no less than he expected. No less than he should have anticipated from this poor excuse for someone who tried to pass as a human.

"No. I won't beg from you. I won't beg you to take away the pain that you put there. Fuck you Calvetti."

"Such a simple move – to kneel. It requires so little of you."

"I won't do it. Go. Leave me alone. I won't plead for them."

"Your body is screaming for them David. You know you need them, you know that without them you will sink further into a state of physical decline."

"I will not beg on my knees you Motherfuckin' bastard. Leave me alone. Take your slave girl and get out of my room. I won't provide you with any more games. I'd rather lie here in agony than give you anymore satisfaction. "

"Are you in pain David? Answer the question."

"You know I am you animal. You put me here, you left me in this pain. Deal it out so you can take it away on your terms isn't that right?"

"Then…."

"Shove your pills up your ass you sick fuck!"

And with that Calvetti upended the small plastic vial he had held in one hand. His eyes, one clear and prophetic the other pulled and diverging from his prey, watched Starsky, anguished and pain wracked begin to dissemble in front of him. Calvetti's shiny dress shoe stepped forward to crush the three small tablets that had scattered at his feet.

Crushed and broken, rendered into powdered dust.

Starsky, stricken beyond words now, watched his chance at respite from total agony disintegrate in front of his bleary eyes. The punch to his body was harder than fists, sharper than knives, hotter than fire.

" Oh My God you are so sick."

"Wished you had kneeled now David? See? It's all so very easy, you just need to learn the steps, the requirements. Look how much grief you would save yourself. I'm sorry that you haven't been able to learn. Your efforts to second-guess me are all futile. Surely you should appreciate that my now. I don't like the thought of leaving you all night like this – crawling in on yourself in acute pain."

Starsky let himself fall to the side, his ruined body sliding down the wall and his whole weight canting to the side until he ended up flat on the cot, his back to the wall, his eyes closing in defeat.

…..

And then it happened. Inside of him snapped and broke, his last bit of resistance, his last bit of tolerance was crushed and pummeled, along with the small hard pills that lay decimated beneath Calvetti's heel.

His ragged psyche tore just one little bit more and it all unraveled. Starsky felt his mind implode, all control shattered and inner terror met head on with suppressed anger.

_No more. He could take no more._

With a wild scream he lunged at the man above him thrusting his whole weight into Calvetti's middle, his head and shoulders plowing into the other man's center. Calvetti was flung back; the air whooshed out of him, his balance lost by the unexpected force that hurled against him. From somewhere Starsky summoned the power and the energy to use his weakened body to attack. Calvetti was slammed back against the wall, grunting with the effort to remain upright.

Recovering enough now he caught Starsky's fist before it smashed into his face and pushed his other arm down as Starsky's right hand ripped into the side of his face.

Starsky was screaming. Howls of frustration erupting from him like a wounded cornered animal, the words spewing from his mouth incoherent and guttural and filled with the culmination of torment he had suffered for over forty-eight hours. Torment that he still carried from weeks earlier when he had been held by black robed cultists who snatched him away from his normal life just as this madman had also done. Calvetti was just finishing what Simon Marcus had begun and he had brought him to the ultimate brink – the brink of psychological collapse. As he grappled with Calvetti he imagined that he wanted to drag this evil force down with him, pull him down into the pit of terror into which he was now falling.

Calvetti managed to push him off bodily and now it was Starsky's turn to be thrust hard back against the other wall. He turned his body toward the wall and punched his fist into its hard surface, screaming all the while, the sounds now forming words as the limited reserves of adrenalin began to plummet and his body sagged forward.

"Let me out. Let me out of here. I just want out. Please…please….just let me out."

Cradling his bloody hand and tender torso he slumped further down, curling into a ball on the fall, the words escaping his constricted throat now jagged and clipped. That was when the tears began and the words became sobs and his bleeding hand covered his eyes, as if by doing so he could hold the tears at bay.

Cassandra had withdrawn to the edge of the small room, her slight frame pressed back into the wall, her stony face losing its impassivity. Shock on her face had Calvetti sneering.

"Hard for you to watch Cassandra? Easier for you to torture a man than watch him breakdown? Go – give yourself a minute to collect yourself and bring me back the needle and syringe I have left prepared in the next room. He needs it now."

She lunged for the door as though the offer of a short reprieve might be snatched back from her.

Calvetti took a moment to recover himself from the body blow Starsky had dealt him and adjusted his clothing and hair. He knelt down beside the curled up man and regarded him clinically.

"We've reached it David, haven't we? Finally… I knew it would be a longer time for you, longer than most men, but we're here now. Your breaking point. Your mind and your body have vetoed on your resistance, pulled out and left you with no support. You're all alone now aren't you? Stripped of all your strength, laid open and raw for me to see your neediness.

It hurts doesn't it David? It hurts but it's also peaceful now not to have struggle anymore. You can let go now because you can't hide your weakness from me anymore. I can see it. You are defeated and empty. You can't fight it anyway so just give up entirely to me and my power over you."

The shuddering heap of the fallen man who lay at his feet didn't respond just curled more tightly in on himself and shook with sobs, moans of pain intermingled with the sounds of grief.

Within a short moment Cassandra had returned, the requested drug in a small silver tray. No longer sure of her place in the drama she offered up the tray with wary reticence.

There was no struggle when Calvetti plunged the needle into Starsky's firm outer arm, no struggle to pull back or flinch – just total resignation and emotional distance.

"There David. You have it both now – the drug will take away some of your pain and calm your mental state. But your over zealous spirit has been broken completely. Your fear and fragility are on show for me now. I have breached your threshold. Just relax now and let the drug help you to slip further into weakness. This is a big step for you. An important step. It is so rewarding to see that I have succeeded with you. After this you will be ready for me to find another use for you. Now that you have relinquished your self control, you can be valuable in other ways."

Starsky was quieting, the agitation and grief less raw, the suffering of his body less apparent. The drug was working quickly.

As Calvetti noted the increasing passivity and the disappearance of the raging flare of temper and rage that had only minutes early streaked across the room he admitted to himself that he wasn't without some remorse. The wild, pulsing fire of the incandescent David Starsky had been invigoratingly refreshing. He had thrilled at the opportunity to extinguish the flame, but knew he would miss the dancing heat of it.

He would just have to find other ways to get his fulfilment from this man.

Starsky rolled deeper into himself and held his central core firmly, holding in the parts of him that threatened to break apart and overwhelm him again.

Calvetti watched him as his prisoner sank into the depths of the drug-induced cloud. He bent forward to catch the whispered words now brokenly uttered and smiled victoriously when he heard the plea. The strangled words proved that he had broken this man down to his most vulnerable parts, his lowest emotional denominators. Calvetti left the room behind him with anguished words playing in his ears.

"Just want to go home... Please...please... just let me go home – tell Hutch...tell Hutch...wanna come home...tell him...tell him, to come get me now."


	14. Chapter 14

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 14**

Thanks to all of the many kind reviewers out there! And, in particular to those faithful reviewers who are so cued into the story. Your feedback is so very appreciated and means a lot to me. Just a reminder to those of you who review as "Guest"...and have not logged on to review...I cannot leave you any response or get back to you about your review as there is no link back to a guest's page.

The story continues and so too does Starsky's pain.

I promise you that in my next story, Starsky will not be suffering! He needs a break.

* * *

The deeply inhaled cigarette was doing little to quell his rising anxiety. But it gave him something to do with his hands and his time as he waited near the rear exit where he knew Hutch would choose to park. Huggy sucked in deeply and closed his eyes against the smoke as he exhaled its rich plume through his nose. He'd escaped the small dingy office to steal a smoke before they both faced what was waiting for them on the tape inside. If Huggy was honest he was also needy of a relaxant before dealing with the arrival of his blond friend and the state he knew only too well he would be in when he got here.

It wasn't surprising to see the bright red streak of the Torino roar into the back lane. Hutch would be driving it as he often did whenever his partner was out of action, or in this case Huggy winced, missing in action. The car was a part of the duo and he understood that Hutch would do anything to keep Starsky close to him when he wasn't physically present.

Huggy ground out the stub of the cigarette beneath his shoe as Hutch leapt from the car and slammed the driver's door.

"Ok..Ok I'm here. Where is it? Christ Huggy have you left it unattended? Is it safe?"

"Chill man, it's in my back office and I locked the door. Just stepped out to chill myself and to wait for you. Come on, I've got it set up and ready to go."

Huggy locked the office door behind him leaving instructions with his bar staff that he wanted no interruptions. He pulled the phone from its hook and signaled for Hutch to take a chair.

The compact projector sat on the desk and Huggy once more felt himself eyeing it like it was some potentially dangerous weapon, a small timed bomb, a booby trap, a bad joke about to explode in their faces. Of course having seen the face of the man who had hand delivered, his barely contained nerves a conveyance of what it contained, Huggy feared that it might well in fact be figuratively all of those things. He walked around it, giving it a wide berth as he settled on the other side of the desk.

Hutch by contrast approached the machine and the tape like the detective he was. He didn't restrain himself from touching it knowing full well it had been handled already too much to be useful as evidence. But he noted the tape, the caliber and the quality of the projector and examined the soft black bag it had been transported in. He said nothing while he did so and then turned to Huggy.

"The guy who gave you this. You can give me a full description?"

"Sure I can. But got no name and nothing else from him except the gut feeling that the dude was scared and respectful of what might befall him from all quarters once he handed this over. He was sweating bullets Hutch."

"All quarters?"

"Whoever owns this - this thing and ….well…if I read him right and I think I did, he was just as if not more shit scared about what you were going to do to him when you got your hands on this. No way was he prepared to hang around to give this present to you personally. So – he must know something about you – about yours and Starsky's partnership, you get me?"

Hutch listened and nodded.

"He knew to come here, to bring this to you so you'd hand it on to me, so yeah, he knows us, or of us. So he's likely connected to Starsky's disappearance and just hasn't happened upon this – Christ – whatever this is."

"Are you gonna be right with this Hutch? "

They both knew what Huggy was referring to and the even though there were so many more questions that Hutch had about the delivery of what was now waiting for him on the table, he swallowed down hard on the need to yell back that of course he fucking wasn't ready, would never be ready for the terror mounting him in at what he was about to see. He wanted so badly to sweep his big hand across the desk and smash the machine to pieces, to rip the tape from its orderly spool and crush the spools of film with his hands, tear it to shreds with his fingers - for he knew it would only be a projection of what he didn't want to see.

_His partner in trouble, his partner suffering – or even worse – his partner dying or dead. Oh God help me NO…please no, don't let it be that. _

"It's not that Hutch. He's alive. The guy told me that he's still alive. I wouldn't, I _couldn't_ bring you here like this if he'd told me differently."

For a moment Hutch was taken aback and stared hard at his black friend, seeing his own deep worry clouding his dark eyes.

Had he said his thoughts out loud? Voiced his deepest fears?

He held Huggy's eyes and then gave a small shake of his head.

"You been learning how to read my mind now Hug? Or am I that transparent?"

"Bit of both my friend. Bit of both. Been around you two Siamese twins long enough to pick up on some of that special unspoken lingo you two practice, and yeah, your face couldn't get any paler."

"Play it - start it for me Hug – I can't put it off anymore and I don't think I can do it."

The plaintive request was a croaked whisper.

Huggy obliged.

The projector whirred into action and within moments the room was filled with sound and color, the raucous background of the busy bar fading out as the drama on the film dominated the small room and filled the senses of the small stricken audience.

The two men sat transfixed, the images dancing on the wall demanding every bit of their attention.

The film was a high-end piece of small studio production – smooth and clear, crisp and sharp in its cinematic quality. From a technical point of view anyone in the field would praise its standard. From a theatrical point of view the performances, the dialogue, and the script were nothing short of stellar for such an amateur and fledgling main actor. The star of the feature excelled in his portrayal of a tortured yet stubbornly headstrong protagonist, unyielding to the bitter end as he held his head high against the faceless judge and tormentor who showed him no mercy.

It was a gutsy, raw and poignant low budget movie, and a classy piece of creative direction and psychological mastery. As the spools wound to the finish, the images fading into grey and white snow, the lack of rolling credits were noticeable. Not yet done yet – still raw and uncut, the movie needed to go into postproduction for some final editing and dressing up.

Hutch sat rigid and stiff and thought momentarily about David Michael Starsky's name rolling down the screen in bold white against black as the credit's played – maybe against some fittingly somber music, maybe against nothing but silence. Maybe against the fade out sound of the muted sobs he had uttered in the final scenes of the film.

Hutch thought about that.

And then he thought about the name of the other actor, the one who never had the courage to show his face during the entire performance. What would be the name of this faceless torturer, the voice that directed the film and its players, who tormented and pushed, manipulated and hurt?

What would his name be – Hutch wondered?

_What was his name? _

The imperative need to know this was a burning question in his mind as he watched the flickering end of the film.

Huggy turned slowly in his chair and tried to ascertain what was happening for Hutch. Neither had spoken a word, or expressed anything to each other during the film. It was almost too mind blowingly surreal to step out of the spell of the film in order to react to it.

But now that it was over and the sound of the bar once more permeated the small office, Huggy leaned forward with trembling hands to softly turn the machine to off.

"Hutch?"

The tall blond beside him might have turned to stone. A carved piece of white stone. So still, so lifeless were his features, so rock hard were his clamped hands that held tight to the arms of the office chair, so fathomless were his clear eyes that stared straight ahead as if he was still looking at where the images had just been but where now there was just dirty cream wall.

Huggy repeated the name, this time with a little more firmness. He observed the complete stillness except for the throbbing pulse in the rigid column of Hutch's pale throat and sensed what was looming. The calm before the storm.

"Hutch?"

Hutch turned to face him as though once more aware of his surroundings and in what context he found himself.

"No – No. Not yet Huggy."

He was gone from the room. He'd fled before Huggy even realized he was moving, the door left swinging wide and the noises from the bar drifting into the room in his wake.

He would not follow him.

After all what he could hope to achieve by it?

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHS

Somehow his legs got him to the back door of the bar and out again into the grimy back lane where he'd left the Torino. It was dark outside but distant street lights lit his way. He pushed past the heavy sleekness of the car, he wanted it behind him, out of his visual range – and he staggered further up the alleyway past packing boxes and crates until he couldn't make his body move another step. Hands out in front to steady him, he touched the cool brick wall and allowed his shoulder make contact with its firm support. It was enough to hold him upright just a moment longer before his long legs folded and collapsed beneath him.

A strangled cry and gasp of breath drew in air he hadn't bothered to take since the shock had paralyzed his lungs, and set his heart into overdrive. Dizziness and dimming vision forced his head down low, instinct telling him to get some much needed blood to his brain before he fell completely face first onto the dirty ground. He pitched forward on all fours just before his stomach rebelled and he lost the fight to purge.

Three large spasms caught him, rolling in on one another before he sucked in fresh air and fell weakly back onto his butt, smashing heavily into the crate beside. He was shaking with the effort of the vomit and the nausea was still there, rising again.

Barely able to make it up again he spasmed weakly two more times and hung lifeless against the boxes and the wall, sweaty and cool, eyes stinging with unshed tears. He swiped vainly at his mouth with the cuff of his jacket, clearing away what was only bile and spit now – he'd had barely any solid food in the past day, his stomach only rejecting liquid anyway.

The aftermath left him trembling and spent and he crawled away a little from the mess of his own sickness until he found a clean space where he could sit back propped up more fully against the wall. He brought his legs up tight against his body, grabbing hard at his legs with his shaking arms and hands, and let his heavy damp face fall forward on to his knees.

"Oh Starsk…..Starsk….I'm so sorry I let this happen to you again."

So insulated was he with his own pain and anguish, so doubled in on himself with grief and shock that he was blind to the figure in the distance, at the opening of the narrow alleyway that wound down to the back of the bar. The figure was shrugged over and leaning into a corner of the wall watching Hutch struggle on the ground. When he saw the blond clumsily stagger to his feet and then steady himself against the wall before finally moving back to the rear doorway, the figure moved too, backing out of the alley way and walking hastily in the opposite direction.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Huggy was waiting for him just inside the back door. His thin arms reached out to guide his friend back into the outer area of the rear of the bar, surveying him as he supported his still shivering body.

"You want to go upstairs and clean up first? It's a bit more private up there than the john here. There are some fresh towels in the side cupboard near the sink, and plenty of soap too. How about it Hutch? You need to wash up."

"Yeah…yeah ok. I'll do that."

"Here give me that jacket and I'll clean it up for you. Then come back down and I'll have a drink waiting for you – we can talk Hutch. Make a plan. We can do that can't we?"

Hutch looked dazed and uncertain but squeezed Huggy's arm appreciatively.

"Sure …we can talk. We'll talk."

_For whatever good it would do, but Huggy deserved something in response._

The tall bent figure moved away toward the back steps and Huggy knew his words were total crap but he offered up the platitude nonetheless. When Hutch came back down there would be lots to say, lots to talk about, but he knew Hutch would do none of that and anyway, it was all useless talk – for in truth they were no further ahead, except in that Hutch was suffering even more than before he came here.

Ten minutes later he was again waiting for Hutch to show, keeping one eye on the stairs and the other on his bar – hoping beyond hope that the man who had delivered the tape would show his face again.

It had seemed as though he had wanted to help – as though he would contact them again.

Seeing Hutch he directed him over to his and Starsky's favored back booth, a tray balanced in his hands on which he placed bottle of whisky, two tumblers and a pitcher of cold water and glasses.

Hutch had already moved to the booth and Huggy was surprised to see that he looked dramatically different to when he had left him to go upstairs.

Not better – but different.

He'd barely placed the tray on the table when Hutch had poured out two generous splashes of the spirit, throwing his back in an instant without a flinch or grimace at the aftershock. He poured another but let it sit.

Now Huggy saw what had replaced the shocked face. The grief was still there underneath but the stunned glaze of shock had been wiped off his face like he had washed away his sick and tears. Hutch's expression was now brandishing a new emotion, glaringly bright and dangerous.

White-hot rage.

He leant in to Huggy and spoke in a low deadly tone.

"So you said we'd talk. I'm talking. I'm going to find him Huggy. I'm going to find this...animal …that has taken Starsky…I'm going to find him Hug."

"But is there enough to help you find him from that tape?"

"We've got his name, or a name – Calvetti. We've got brief glimpses of him, and shots of his girl and the thugs who help him. Its something – it just has to be something to make a start. It's more than we had. And at least –shit- at least I know he's alive. He's alive – hurting, hurting a lot, but alive. He's damn well alive."

Huggy wondered if Hutch even heard his fierce repetition of the word "alive" - spoken like a mantra, warding off his deepest fears. He pushed the tall glass of water he'd poured for him toward his arm suggestively. He was pleased to see that Hutch had picked it up almost absently as he stared hard at the rings, Starsky's rings, that he was still wearing on his small finger.

"So you gonna take this down to the station? Dobey needs to know. No point in-"

Their private conversation was disrupted when Huggy became aware of one of his waitresses hovering beside him. She looked uncertainly at the grim-faced detective and was smart enough to know it was not wise to interrupt. His mood and the tension was shimmering around him and for a moment she baulked. But she spoke up, hedging her bets on thinking that this was something Huggy might want to hear. She could tell something heavy was going down with these two men and had been the one who had spoken to the man with the black bag earlier….

"Hey not now Lizzy, I told you to hold things for me till I finished here."

"But Huggy, that guy, that one who came in before with the black bag to give you, you know the one?"

Instantly both men were attentive.

"I can tell its him – recognized his voice – he's on the phone and he wants to talk to you again."

Hutch was up and bolting to the bar phone while Huggy lunged after him, no contest for the blond's long legs and pace.

"Wait Hutch! Don't – don't risk scaring him off. Let me. No …"

But it was too late. Hutch had the displaced phone in his hand and was turning toward the wall, his back against the bar, even before Huggy had cleared half the distance.

"Hutchinson. It's Hutchinson. Who is this? I know you know my name."

There was a pregnant pause but not before a discernible intake of breath and a rustle of the other end of the connection.

"Yeah I know who you are and I know you're there and that you've seen it. You've seen it haven't you? I waited till you had and then I phoned. Look – just – listen…"

"No you listen to me whoever you are!" his voice was a whip, his tongue-lashing. "You have to give me more than just this …this tape. I need names, places…I need …I need some fucking help here and now. Come here – come and meet me and give me some information that will lead me to my partner. I don't have the time to take the long way around this. You know what has been done to him – you know…I want – I want to – if you don't help me I will find you eventually and - if you are part of what's been done to him…."

"I'm the one who brought you this so just cut me some damn slack here for a moment and listen to me. You think I wanted this? I don't want my name or my conscience tied to this shit, that's why I'm trying to give you the chance to save your friend. Forget about me. I'm not your worry at the moment. I'm out of the picture entirely right now. If you want my help, I'm asking you to forget about my place in this and just worry about helping David."

Hutch felt himself buckle at the man's use of Starsky's Christian name – it sounded almost obscene, like it had when the animal Calvetti had used his name. The caressing sickening tone which uttered the name 'David' throughout the duration of the film was all wrong.

"Talk now. Now! Where is he keeping him?"

"I don't know."

"You fucking –"

"No wait! I don't know for sure. I don't really know where he keeps any of them…but I know where Calvetti is. If I give you this much you've got to promise me some sort of – some sort of "out" from all of this. I didn't know about this side of it all. I just help set up the take. That's why I know you and your friend who runs the bar. I've been watching you all for a while now….I ….look that is not my sort of thing ok? I don't like what I saw on that film. I wouldn't have wished that on anybody, least of all your partner. He's – he's – well I respected him. I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry…."

"Don't waste your fucking regrets on me. Just give me what I need to know and now. And make yourself available to at least let me contact you again. I might need more from you. You run to ground now I'll chase you down eventually anyway. You want some leniency, than you had damn well better make yourself contactable you hear me?

Now let me have all you've got on this sadistic asshole."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Another room. It was a different room.

A little bigger, the walls not as closed in on him, the cameras higher up on a higher ceiling.

A different bed – a bigger bed, not a narrow cot, but a spacious expanse on which his broken body was now lying, curled and huddled with no sheet to cover him, no blanket to hide in.

How he wanted to huddle and hide and block out the cameras and the incessant light.

He was waking yet again from some deep blackness and once more easing his shattering mind back into the here and now.

Shattering. His mind and his body shattering.

The here and now of hell was breaking him up into tiny pieces.

The pain was worse than before, worse than the previous times he had awakened. Every part of him was aching or stinging, skin tight and hot and oozing with blood when he moved, muscles knotted and flesh bruised and raw.

He knew he was declining rapidly – on every front. Mentally more than physically. Isn't that what Calvetti had wanted? Wasn't that the whole aim of his sick depraved game?

If Calvetti didn't stop soon he would be in so many pieces there would be no way to put him back together.

He lay still and listened to his head and his thoughts and knew too, that emotionally he was getting near the end of his control also. Maybe he had already breached it – the deadness inside of him made him think he might have come very close. Close to deadness – just still holding out for some glimmer of life, glimmer of hope, a miracle of chance.

That he would be found.

That Hutch would come for him like he always did. Like they always did for each other.

But now even that part of him was frighteningly uncertain.

He couldn't be sure of anything anymore.

Except that he was alone, frightened and in pain.

And that the man with half a face would not leave him in peace.

And that Hutch hadn't come and he was still here.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Time must have passed for he was aware of waking again, once more noting the new surroundings and the wave of desolation that flooded in.

He wondered if this was depression? No not depression because this was his reality. It wasn't his state of mind. His reality was depression. His reality was a morass of horror, so how could that be depression?

_Christ I am thinking too much! I am inside my head too much._

But outside, outside of mindspace was just too terrible to contemplate.

The level of his own introspection warned him that he was in a seriously bad way. Not one to dwell too much on the mechanics of his own psychology, this must surely be a warning sign to him that his head was really becoming screwed up.

The sound of the door opening had his pulse jumping and his blood pounding.

Calvetti was conditioning him. Conditioning him with fear. Calvetti equaled fear. Calvetti equaled pain. Calvetti equaled hopelessness and loss.

This was psychological torture at its best and he understood now that this man who was once more standing before him might actually be correct in his own lofty self assessment. Calvetti's self-proclamation was not overstated. He _was_ skilled at breaking a man down.

"Do you like your new room David? It's important to change your surroundings just for a little while anyway, for what I have planned for you."

At the lack of any response Calvetti moved closer to the bed and tipped the dark head more toward him. Starsky had left his face pressed firmly toward the mattress, attempting to block out the disfigured man.

"What? Nothing to say to me this time? Look at me David, don't hide your face. That is not you at all."

Starsky simply closed his eyes as the steely gaze tried to fathom his face.

"Perhaps I underestimated your strength David. I knew I had broken the back of your character, but not entirely. Maybe what I have planned for you now will help to revive some of your apathy. I never imagined you would be a man to shut yourself off so completely."

Starsky remained still and unresponsive.

Calvetti shifted his position on the bed so that he was leaning in closely to the other man and staring straight into his guarded eyes.

"Now here is a question for you David. I was hoping you could answer it for me. I am curious. Who out of the two of you, you and your partner, do you think is the strongest mentally? Hmmm? You or your blond friend Hutchinson? Does he have more resilience than you? If he was here, if I had him here with me, how do you think he would deal with my ….. methods, my approach?"

Calvetti was rewarded with an urgent stirring from the still form on the bed as Starsky struggled to prop himself up on one shaky elbow.

His hand snaked out and snared Calvetti's wrist with a savage grip.

"Tell me you ain't fucking got him too! Tell me he ain't here somewhere in another room…."

Starsky's head turned suddenly to stare at the walls and then to the door as though he was looking through them.

As Calvetti pulled back from the vice like grip he jolted when the bellowing call rang out.

"HUTCH! HUTCH! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Recovering from the sudden shattering cry, Calvetti gave a deep-throated laugh.

"Don't panic David. Such an imagination. I'm afraid you're overawed with everything that has happened to you aren't you? No – relax. Your friend is not here. I don't have him. I was merely asking you an academic question. "

Starsky's head fell back roughly, groaning as he collapsed back down on the mattress.

"You are one fucking bastard Calvetti. You and your mind games. You can burn in hell. And to answer your question – he is. Hutch is. That's right. Hutch is stronger than me by far when it comes to this sort of shit. He never gives up. Never. He doesn't stop till he has the answers and he doesn't give in period. "

"Oh? I think you underestimate yourself David and I have the feeling that if I asked your partner the same question he would say you were the stronger of the two. But I know for a fact that you are incorrect. He does give up. He has given up in fact. Not as strong mentally than as you think. To have given up so easily. "

"What the fuck are you talking about? Like I've said to you before you prick – you know nothing of him."

"Perhaps if he was strong – as strong as you say he is – he would have kept on looking for you. Not just shelved the whole investigation so quickly. Obviously forensics take a time to complete but then they will be limited in what they can reveal anyway – after the good job Camilla and her little team did with the body. I met him once you know?"

"Met who? You're making no fucking sense you asshole."

" The other man - the body they used. I had him here, just like I have you here now - but I only had him for a while. He looked very much like you do. Same build, same hair, eyes….very very similar. Not that it matters when his body was so badly burned anyway. Your clothes, wallet, some jewellery were left on his body too, so who knows how far if at all they will take the forensics. It was just all too much for your poor partner when they found him. In your car too…. "

Starsky raised his hand up to his forehead and rubbed hard.

"Hutch thinks….?"

"Yes he does. What else is he to think the poor man? And I can tell you he is not taking it well. Not strong mentally at all as you claim he is."

"You liar. You're just trying to grind me down further."

Calvetti backed away from the bed for a moment retrieving a newspaper from the table in the corner.

"Afraid not David. It's quite the story in the local newspapers – well yesterday anyway. Old news today and by tomorrow forgotten news. You know how it goes. We are all transient, all temporary. But you had your moment of fame for a while."

He snapped the paper in his hand as he read.

"_The frantic two day search for missing police officer, David Starsky who had only been recently through a traumatic experience during the Simon Marcus Cult trials when he was abducted by members of the cult, was called off yesterday when a man walking his dog in the out skirts of the city found the burnt out remains of the missing officers Ford Torino. Forensic officers were called to the site and confirmed, early today, that remains found in the car were that of the missing Detective. The funeral for David Starsky will be held later this week. In a statement from City Police Department, Captain Harold Dobey said that his thoughts were with his family, his friends and his partner, Sergeant. Kenneth Hutchinson."_

With a soft flourish, Calvetti folded the paper and tucked it under his coated arm. He took the time to study the look of pure defeat on Starsky's face. Any trace of renewed energy which had reignited briefly when he had thought for one fear filled minute that Hutch was at risk, had drained away.

As Calvetti had suspected he did not question the newspaper story, never asking to read it or even see it, so completely disarmed was he by the revelation. Not that it would have mattered anyway, as Calvetti would have dealt with that in his own way – but he was pleased to see he was correct in reading this man. So low now. So disempowered that he could not fight back on any level.

And the final blow.

Delivered with perfect timing and theatrical aplomb. When he thought he couldn't bring this man down any further, this piece of news, this total severance of all connection with his partner, was the final line of resistance.

"I'm sorry David, but there's no one looking for you anymore. I couldn't take the chance of them finding you, you mean too much to me to be taken away now. I know this will hurt you, but it's better than false hope."

" It's over. Well at least its over for your grieving partner. It shows how fragile and vulnerable we can make ourselves by being too inextricably tied to another human being. You have both allowed that to happen to you haven't you? Well now, it's over for both of you. In his mind you're gone – dead. And for you, I guess that means he's gone too – for you. He won't we looking for you anymore David."

"Go away. Leave me. Leave me alone. "

Calvetti saw the tears again, never far from the surface now that he had done the damage to this man's psyche.

"I don't want you to feel alone David. You're here with me now. I will take care of you. Hutchinson's all alone now, but not you David. You belong to me now."

"I will leave you for now David. I can understand you need time to adjust to this …..sad news. But later ….later…I have a diversion for you David. It might help with this sense of emptiness. Rest a little, I'll give you an hour or so before I send her in. You don't need to know her name. She is my gift to you David. I want to share you with others and to watch you be enjoyed by others."

In the end he walked toward the door leaving him as he had requested. There was no point in pressing his point any further. The man on the bed, a broken shaking, wounded mass was too distressed to hear his words, let alone their implications.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHS


	15. Chapter 15

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue **

**Chapter 15**

This chapter features explicit sexual content; wording, context and intent by characters. Please if this sort of thing upsets or offends you take my advice and read no further. This story is essentially about one man pitted against extensive torture on several levels and the sexual element of that abuse and torture features heavily in many aspects of the plot and the dialogue.

* * *

A steel capped boot ground fire into his tender and sensitive back where crusting wields and whiplash scars were only slowly beginning to heal. They hurt afresh all over again now as the boot pushed and prodded and bit into his skin with merciless force.

"Move it will you? You'd better wake up and pay attention or I'll have to do more with this boot than just poke at you. Get up and look alive. Mr. Calvetti wants you alert and interacting, not washed out like some dead zombie. Fuckin' sit up pig!"

A female voice cut in and the small part him that might have still cared paid heed when he realized it was not the voice of Cassandra the knife wielding witch, but a new voice, lighter, airier. It was still not enough to raise his interest and dead in his soul, he closed his eyes to both of them. Starsky lay still and unreactive, not even able to muster the energy to grit his teeth against the lancing pain of the boot on his back.

Nothing was worthwhile responding to anymore and nothing was worthwhile thinking too much about anymore. He was alone completely and there was no hope of him ever getting out of this hell pit, this room of torture and pain. Hutch was not coming. Hutch thought he was dead.

Perhaps he was dead – for each moment he felt himself slipping further into an abyss of darkness where there was no definable edge to reality and nightmare. Maybe this was before and after. Maybe this was the end of life and the beginning of death. He'd never been there before so he couldn't be sure – but he imagined it must be something like this. This slow descent into nothingness.

There was no hope anymore and with only hurt to light his future what was the point in "being" a part of what happened around him, what happened to him.

It would take more than a sharp booted prod in his back and the tinkle of a female voice to force him into perception.

_You'd wanna have more than this you fucker Calvetti. That's not enough to bring me back to this room, to you, to what you want to do with me. Better here, in this place where I am. So…you'd wanna have more than this._

But of course he knew Calvetti would have more than this – much more. That was why he needed to stay inside of himself as long as he possibly could. There were no blankets or covers to hide under, no hard shell or exterior protection to buffer him from Calvetti's vices, no friend to comfort or protect him and shield him from this interminable pain. And so he had to use his own mind to lock himself away.

And he was doing ok with it too – this turtle shell act – but the lowlife thug was doing his best too, and the boot pressure changed from an insistent grinding jab into a swiftly place kick, low and deep into his back. Starsky was wondering how close the blow had come to his right kidney when the next blow most certainly found his left. He arched and screamed and thought wildly of a turtle's shell cracking open under the force of a sledgehammer. But it was still ok because he was inside the shell of his mind, and no amount of sledgehammering could penetrate its wispy layers.

A paroxysm of coughing overtook him and he doubled even tighter to brace his chest against the painful laboring for breath, knowing that it only served to expose his vulnerable back even more.

"Leave him be will you? Let me handle this. You'll only end up with him unconscious and that is not our goal at all. We're supposed to be getting him to a more awake state, not kick him to death. Hand me that cup with the drink in it – Now!"

Her light voice deepened a little as she commanded the brutish guard to follow her direction.

He scowled but conceded to her request.

Starsky was pushing down the pain, another round of endless pain, his lower back cramping as he rolled breathlessly onto his side, the coughing still gripping his airways, starving him of a decent clear shot of air.

"David, David? Can you hear me? Try to listen to me. I haven't spoken to you before but I know who you are. I've been watching you on the cameras so I know a little about you and I know you are very stubborn. But listen please. You have to drink something. You've had little fluid in days and you need to drink. It's my job to get you to drink, but you know your body needs it too don't you? Try to sit up a little and drink. You'll feel much better I promise you. Mr. Calvetti wants you awake now and if you don't wake up he's going to let this guard make you wake up by force. Here – just a little to start with – just a swallow or two."

Bleary-eyed and watchful he rolled a little to the side but remained silent as she tried again.

"Just a swallow please. Don't you think that's better than another kick in the back?"

Apathy was laced through his low murmured response.

"Why? Why should I bother to drink? Gonna die anyway. He just wants to drag it out."

She leaned in very close now and he tried to frame her face in his blurred vision. With disinterest he took in her heavily made up face underneath which he could easily see youth and vitality. This young woman had more of a sense of herself, and what she was about, a sense of individuality than he had recognized in Calvetti's work drone Cassandra.

She took the chance to exercise her individuality and sense of dare as she advised him softly, her pink glossy lips coming close to his ear with an almost urgent whisper.

"Look you might as well drink this stuff. It's not going to dope you out, but make you feel better, lighter – well a bit trippy you know? Wouldn't you rather that than how you're feeling now. You're so down, so – well you look terrible. Really terrible. This stuff is a chance to escape for a little while. He wants you to be like that. Mr. Calvetti. He wants it – so you can – well so you can enjoy yourself with me. Why not? I've got to do it anyway so you may as well be feeling free. Feel free David, just for a little while and I'll try to make you forget how trapped you are."

Did she know that her words were enough to bring fresh tears to his eyes? Did she in all her innocent youth understand what she was really saying? He wanted to laugh or at least smile at her and her youthful mixed up, naive psychological reasoning. Here she was, a young vamp, offering him up a serving of wisdom - a rationale to get high and wasted because - God knows he was going to be wasted anyhow. But he couldn't find a laugh or even a whimsical chuckle and in some paradoxical way she was making sense. Why not be free for a little while in the context of being imprisoned? Allow himself to be once more controlled by the woman and the drug so that he could be abandoned in himself just one more time?

"Last supper and you're giving me the wine honey? But we both know it's tainted. Everything he gives me or every way he touches me is tainted. You tainted too?"

"No I'm not tainted David and I promise you that you'll enjoy the taste of me and my effect upon you."

"You're tainted honey. Don't fool yourself. Everything in this place is – you're no different."

She was right however. He looked down at the cup and saw the shimmering liquid. What would it promise him if he drank it?

He thought of Hutch and what he must be doing right now, grieving his death, blaming himself for a burned body in a burned out red and white Torino. Blaming himself for something he couldn't have prevented or known was going to happen – but blaming himself nonetheless.

Alone somewhere in his apartment, guilt ridden and anguished. Alone as he himself was here in this small hemmed in room, pain ridden and anguished.

Nothing to be done. Nothing to hope for anymore. For either of them.

Could the high she alluded to take him high enough and far enough away from this misery to make him not think about the nothingness – just for a little while?

Would the liquid in the cup perhaps take him out of the room altogether, perhaps back to his home, to his apartment or to Hutch's place? Just for a little while? If he drank it would it allow him the chance to fly out of here to that safe place, to where his friend sat, grieving and sad, to at least be nearer to him and not here in this tortured desolation.

The allure of the fantasy pulled him in.

He opened his mouth for the cup and allowed her to assist him to drink steadily, his dry mouth treacherously gulping at the cool refreshing elixir. He drank until the cup was almost empty and rested his head back, willing the receptors in his brain to open up to the intoxication of the chemical.

Her smile blossomed into one of knowingness, relief that she had succeeded with him leaving her more confident. Almost seamlessly she moved into her seduction mode. He could tell she was preparing for her role, pulling on her sexy demeanor and shifting from tentative young woman into skillful actress.

Let her, he thought for it no longer mattered to him what the players around him wanted to be and how they followed their orders from the sinister Calvetti. Let her become whatever she wanted and – he would play at something different too just for a short time.

He would play at not being here.

He swallowed the remainder of the drink, and she gasped a little at his forthrightness, surprised that she no longer had to coax him.

"So there you have it darlin'. It's gone. You've done your job as ordered. If you're sure about this drink then pretty soon I'll be free. Set me free darlin'. I'm so tired of this shithole."

As he rolled onto his back and felt the first touches of the chemical licking his brain and senses he focused hard on the cameras on the wall. He knew the drug was taking its effect because a sense of renewed energy flowed into his bloodstream, and a fresh hatred for the man who had put him here, filled his aching muscles with new burning tension.

"You want another show Calvetti you sick motherfucker? Another little home movie for your collection? S'pose you've got your dick out already ain't ya? "

The raucous laughter bubbled up uncontrollably in him and the shock of it filling and expanding his tender chest, had him clenching his hands in pain. But as even as he became aware of the pain, he knew he was already dissociating from it. His mind was leaping ahead leaving his battle weary body behind on the bed.

The room began to tilt and morph, its edges and walls convoluting and the white sheen of the pain rippling with a texture that was only in his perception. He knew the sensations, he was expecting them – flashes of his younger years ran through his head when dabbling with street drugs took him on this same ride and then experiences in Nam where hallucinogens were par for the course – it all came back to him in a familiar but not altogether pleasant rush. The effects of the drug picked him up on the wave and rolled him forward into the heavy wash of outer body perception. He let the drug take him, a willing traveller when the journey took him anywhere but this room.

It felt different, better than it had in so many hours and he embraced the sensation of having altered feedback of pain to his brain. But it fell short, at least so far, of taking him out of this room, and away from this reality.

And of course the drug, as he knew it would, fell way short of taking him home.

The girl was up very close to him, standing in front of him like some sideshow stripper. He wanted to wince for her, to cringe at her uncouth parody of what she could not be just yet because she was far innocent still. The guard had disappeared and Starsky vaguely recalled him watching the girl as she peeled off her skimpy top and skirt his eyes getting a generous fill before he took his leave. Now they were alone. Just the two of them. He and this young woman who now stood in nothing but her brief panties. She stretched in an attempt at languorous appeal but fell short of the mark in convincing him, and held her small breasts up toward his face as she advanced closer toward the bed.

Her nipples were hard and rosy, dusty and peaked and her small body was perfectly proportioned, her face pleasant and sweet despite her act as a mature sex siren.

But she remained dislocated from his mind and body and although her proximity was near her intentions did little to touch him in any sense of the word, physical or mental.

His own body was as limp and devoid of expression as hers was ripe and full of promise. He was all inside his head, his mind was leaping and electric – alive and increasingly distant from his relentless pain for the first time in days.

She came to him, as he knew she would.

Taking her time to remove the last item of her clothing at its best vantage point, she stood right up against his face as he lay on the side of the bed seeing her but not really watching her, powerless to do anything but focus on her lurid performance. Tauntingly, painstakingly she slowly stripped her panties down over her hips, over her groin and then down her legs.

His dazed eyes took in her face, sheened with perspiration and intensive concentration as she pushed her hips and unclothed pubes up against his face and neck.

"All yours David. All yours…every bit of me. What you want to do with me huh? I'm all naked here for you and I'm getting wet just thinking about how strong you are and how tough you are. I've seen you fight David. Oh yeah. You're a real man and I want a real man. I know you're not well, I know you've been injured, but I can do all of the work for both of us David. You just have to lie there and let me touch you, love you….Would you like that David? Or you can touch me too? You can reach out and touch me and stroke me, kiss me. If you want to. If you have the strength. I think those nice drugs have given you the strength to do that David. Haven't they? You feeling it in your cock David? Feeling what you want to do with me? Hmmnnn….Look , I'm right here, right near your pretty face and mouth. My pussy is all wet just waiting for you to lick me. Come on David. Can you see how wet I am for you as I stand here so close to you with my pussy right in your face?"

She thrust her slim hips up against the bedside and rubbed her bare taut stomach against his buried face, her vagina close enough to his mouth and nose that he could smell her feminine musky scent.

But the game was all for Calvetti and he wouldn't play for him. Not if he could help himself. His mind might have been taken for a joyride by the drug, but his body was flat lined and his will and verve was even flatter.

Distantly he wondered at his own lack of reaction and failure to respond to this blatant showgirl come-on. It was not his usual form. Even in his worst physical states, beaten and sore, wounded and bleeding, he would not have been able to staunch his healthy sexual appetite, his insatiable hunger for a ripe female from at least responding a little to her advances.

But he was driven too low now. Too low for even his drug morphed brain, and heightened perceptual awareness to raise him up above his lowest ebb.

Confusion shadowed her painted face and uncertainty threatened her false sense of sexual prowess. He saw it in her eyes…

That he was not doing what she had expected him to do.

That he was not responding to her flagrant show of sensuality.

That he remained closed off in himself and even further away, further unattainable as the protective blanket of the hallucinogenic swept him up and away from her.

A part of him felt for her failure to induce what she was ordered to induce in him. She had not reached the goal, had not fulfilled task set for her.

In a bid to incite him she hastily climbed atop his body. A body that was languid and lax now with the effects of the drugs streaming through his veins, most of the pain and the discomfort catalogued as another sort of sensation, but mercifully for now not perceived as agony.

Within moments she had discarded his drawstring pants and laid him bare to her eyes and the eyes of the voyeuristic cameras. Her light hands traced his chest and shoulders, coming down to his strong abs and lingering softly on his wounded sites. Aware that most every part of his front chest and abdomen was a live representation in violent body art she carefully sat her light frame so that her weight was positioned across his groin and flaccid cock. The only part of his anatomy that was unscathed and not painful to touch.

Moving her questing hands away from the marked and injured areas of his body she focused on giving close exploration to his pelvic region.

A spurt of uncertain desperation filled her eyes as she continued to rub her self against him, her legs widespread and ensuring that her bouncing breasts were directly in front of his clouded blue eyes.

Bending at the waist she brought her mouth and teeth down to play around his neck and chest and whispered a little frantically against his shoulder.

"Come on…you've got to wake up and get into this with me. He's watching – watching us both. He wants to see you excited and getting off on this. You can't just stay tuned out like you are. He'll punish you and he'll punish me. It's my job! My damn job don't you understand. I'm here to pleasure you David. Come alive for me. What turns you on? What do you like? Tell me; show me with your hands. I want to bring you to the edge. I have to make you..God you're so sexy, even hurt and all messed up like you are. You're so hard and tight and tough. I'm going to make you want this David. Just let me do this for you because your body surely turns me on. Don't I turn you on just a little David? "

And slowly, so very slowly, the rhythmic movements of her hands and her moist wetness rubbing against him pushed its way through the deadness of his center. He felt his pulse quickening, his breath becoming more shallow and rapid as his mind locked on to the sensation of her fingertips and palm stroking and squeezing his genitals.

The room was a whirling mass of whiteness but now there were new colors and new images swirling in on him, and her voice became a force that led the way away from his dead center. Focusing on her mesmerizing voice and the pull and push of her eager hands he sensed his recalcitrant body beginning to respond. Her face meant nothing to him, instead he tuned in to hands, her suggestive words and the constant rubbing of her warm moist center over his own increasingly warm cock. The blood began to gravitate to his dormant member and gradually her persistence began to pay off. The flicker started in the tip of his cock and spread. More blood flowed and her hands brought more life to the fledgling erection. Once started he knew that the combined effects of the hallucinogenic with her sexual ministrations were beginning to work a slow but impressive magic on his libido.

His breath rate picked up a few more notches and where her hands traced there was now a film of slippery sweat that had quickly begun to coat his neck, shoulders and chest. It pooled in small rivulets to find a track down into his abdominal demarcations. She seemed fascinated by the glisten of the salty moisture and trailed her fingers through it before lifting them to her mouth, tasting the essence of him.

"I love the taste of you David. See you're coming alive now aren't you? You're feeling me loving you and turning you on. This sweat, this sweat is for me and tells me how much you want me David. Can you feel how hard you're becoming? All for me."

Vaguely he remembered the blinking cameras and willed his springing cock to behave itself. But now, once more his body was proving that it could prevail over even horrific physical assault. Her legs spread even wider, inviting him to visualize her sleek opening and her obviously own stimulated state. Lying flat as he was he had a direct view to her moist pink center and she held his head still and straight in her hands for a moment, trapping him so that he could look no where else but what she was offering him up. She sat with her knees spread wide her so that her pussy was opened wide to him, her hard little clitoris standing out for him to see and her hands ceaseless in their rhythm. He was fast approaching a full blow erection and his own tender lower back and hip area was rising up to undulate against the girl's pelvis as she continued her artful dance across his groin and hips with her lower body. Once or twice she lifted herself enough over his rigid cock before coming down to take his whole length into her warm folds but then only lingered briefly before pulling herself off again, his dancing cock alive and seeping for her.

The pull into carnal ecstasy was like an electrical force field – every part of him was tingling and hot, scorching for fulfillment, burning for some form of pinnacle.

Her hands changed their positions and with moments she was accelerating his level of horniness to record proportions. He knew it was the drug. The girl's behavior, her somewhat clumsy seductress act and the whole situation was not be enough to bring him to this point of almost unbearable sexual tension. Intellectually he could appreciate that the chemicals sweeping through his blood were having a dramatic impact on enhancement on his sexual imagery and primal urges.

_Can't go home …but just let go for now…let yourself go with this and let her bring you to a point where your body will sing for you and give you some salvation from this torment. Oh yes…..Oh God, I'm getting so close to it now._

His throbbing hardness was almost exquisitely painful. Her hands held his taut balls now as she continue to bring him closer, his pulsing hard cock ramming up between her joined hands as he felt his cramped hip muscles loosen up with each wanton thrust.

So close now.

And her voice was singing, urging him on, coaxing and luring. Dirty words and dirty connotations spinning all around his semi crazed mind as she brought him to the pinnacle. Bending forward once more so that her small breasts danced on his soft chest hair and teased his hypersensitive nipples he watched her pink tongue come down to meet his mouth. Nipping at his closed mouth she had it open when he yelped in pain and her tongue was inside his mouth before he knew it, diving deep into his throat, twining about his tongue.

And then her hands were back to the engorged column that was now insatiably demanding of any and all stimulation. As though his cock had a mind of its own it nudged violently at her grip, seeking some form of completion. So near now…sweat dripped in his eyes, and coursed down his face, breaths were barely drawn, just enough air to suck in for a groan of deep desire and a hissing plea for her to bring him to the end.

And then she stopped.

Like that, the hands were removed, the friction gone, the slew of filthy promises seized in her throat.

But his desperate erection and desperate need to be fulfilled and taken over the edge remained.

His throbbing cock was bereft and his balls so tight and tense demanded relief.

Dazed eyes sought her out and caught her extricating her muscular body from his lower pelvis.

"Wh….wha….whatcha? Where? No don't stop…whatta ya doin'? Com' back. Ah come on, I'm so close now…..I'm fuckin' nearly here baby….where are ya?"

His words sounded distorted and drunken and he wondered how far out of it he really was now.

But she was suddenly so distant and her hands were no longer on his hard length and her hot words were no longer whispered against his ear.

"Ahhhh….come on. Shit no! Oh ….Oh man so close, I'm so close…gotta get there. Fuck, fuck, so good…"

Desperate now for completion his hands, numb with pain and stiffness at first refused to co-operate, but soon leapt into action. They descended on his tight balls and rigid weeping cock. Relief, he needed some relief through a final stroke or two of release.

And then he felt his hands caught and trapped. Snagged roughly as they were on route to his blood filled groin and held hostage in the hands of another person. He gave a momentary exclamation of joy thinking that he was not going to be left alone after all in this effort to bring himself to sexual completion.

A sound broke the mood of tense sexuality in the room and a heavy male scent joined the room once more. Starsky became aware again of the threat of the big boned guard as he advanced toward the hot sexual exhibit-taking place on the bed.

"Take his hands and hold them. He's not allowed to finish himself off. Let him struggle through it."

He heard the voice of his seductress as she relinquished her hold on his hands to the more forceful physical command of the guard.

"You bitch!"

He couldn't stop himself. The level of sexual frustration had him at self-combustion point. That combined with his hazy pain levels and jammed up muscles from too many beatings had him scrambling feverishly to kick out at her with his legs.

The pain in his groin was exquisite and he screamed out with the need to finish what had been started. Straining and pulling against the hands he was almost hysterical with the need to bring himself to orgasm.

He bucked and levered and rolled toward his side, trying to get his steel hard cock in contact with the mattress, in an attempt to finish himself off with friction alone – the mattress his only hope for abrasion and contact. But his upper body was held so firmly he could not twist enough. The rough hands pulled his arms up violently above his head, yanking hard and pinning his hands to the wall above him with an iron grip. The sensation of pain that had all but left his body returned with a lightening strike as the rough pulling of his arms above his head re-opened the knife wound on the top of his chest wall.

But the cry he emitted at the renewed pain was swallowed up his tormented lust filled cries.

"OH GOD! OH COME ON! Let me fuck something please! Just one more pull its all I need please. You! You! Come back, your hands. Just put your hands on my cock for …"

The sensation of unfulfilled sexual release was excruciating. Never had he felt this sort of discomfort. His whole body and mind was centered on his hot groin and taut testicles and their heightened state of physiological excitement. The blood was pounding his head and he felt the first crushing vice of a headache so extreme he feared his skull was splitting in two.

"You want me to die from a freakin' heart attack Calvetti? Is that what you want you fuckin' bastard? Cos I will die if you don't let…..oh shit….please let this be finished…."

The guard shifted his big weight forward as he held him down and with his ugly head hovering over Starsky's, laughed in his face. As he viewed him upside down Starsky thought his features were even more grotesque.

"Poor pig, can't get yourself fucked can you? Hurts doesn't it? Those drugs send you wild man, and you're not going to get to let go of it."

Then he lowered his head closer and Starsky smelled his smoke-filled breath as he taunted him.

"I'm getting a great view of you from up here. You're turning me on as much as you did when Calvetti was filming you. That's one helluva cock and I could help you out….want me to help you use that cock of yours? Want me to do it for you…to finish you off? Mr. Calvetti says I can….just this once have my turn with you. You want me? I can suck you off real deep, get my mouth all around that swollen rod of yours. How about it lover boy? "

Starsky groaned and twisted, self-disgust filling him and pure hatred pulsing for Calvetti for doing this to him.

"Fuck yourself. I don't want your filthy hands or your stinkin' mouth anywhere near me."

"You sure 'bout that lover boy? Cos from where I'm standing you're in pain and your cock is so ripe to be taken. I'm getting hard just looking at you squirm and twist let alone watching that rod you've got going in front of my eyes. Let me finish you off? I can bring in my friend too. Both of us can help you out. You ever had two guys on you at once Cop? One of us can blow you at the front while the other gets to give it to you up your ass? Just say the word and we'll do it. Calvetti wants to hear you beg for it. Gotta beg pig. Come on I know you're screaming for it inside."

"NO! NOOOOOO! Get him out of here Calvetti! I'll kill him if he touches me!" Starsky bellowed wild-eyed at the camera above him.

The face above him danced and morphed before his eyes and he could no longer be sure it was real or part of his hallucinations. He strained to lift his head, partly terrified that the guard already had his hands and mouth on his cock – so crazy and incoherent were his thoughts and so desperate was his turgid member for relief.

Was he willing that to happen?

Did he want the guard to do it?

Too much, too much, too much.

The trip to take him somewhere else had become just like all of Calvetti's games, a trip into a deep nightmare.

Tears of frustration seeped from his eyes.

_Please let this end …just this one. Make this one end – this is so bad. One more ending that is all I will ask for. _

Was he begging out loud? Bargaining with God or Calvetti?

He no longer knew.

The guard was still above him, leering at his nakedness, smiling at his pain, spitting out filthy suggestions.

Starsky did the only thing he could do.

Ceased to be part of this sick charade.

Forcing himself with an iron will he directed his body to remain still and quiet.

Breathing more steadily he tried to let his lower body go and disowned the tension and the unfulfilled lust in his body. Instead he concentrated on the fresh pain in his opened wound, tried to feel the blood slipping down his chest and visualize its track.

_Feel the pain, the pain is better than this other thing, this desperate need that Calvetti has created in me, that is forcing me to humiliate myself and beg for any pair of hands, even these animal's hands to finish me off._

Gradually, so very gradually the burning need edged away and the gnashing teeth of desire to fuck something till it split open, faded away.

The guard was still holding him but nowhere near as tightly and he knew without looking that his erection was diminishing and that the guard was losing his opportunity to use his body.

Exhausted, spent physically, and mentally tormented to his limits, Starsky willed himself to take the remnants of his drugged mind and turn in on himself for the duration of its ride.

Closing his eyes against the disappointed growl above him Starsky wished he had the energy to curse at the man who had come so close to violating him.

Instead he spoke it to himself.

"Not in this lifetime you don't you sick fuck! You don't get to touch me or use me in this lifetime. "

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It was well past midnight when he brought the Torino to a smooth and sinuous stop outside the main gates of the secluded gated house. The address the man on the phone had provided him was as he described – well out of the city perimeters, high in the hills and …from first impressions in the moonlit light, majestically impressive.

Hutch forced himself to exit the car slowly as his feet crunched over the entranceway pebbles to the intercom. Everything he did now had to be a willful force – a force of holding himself back, pulling himself into calculated control and fighting his own overwhelming need to break lose and wreak havoc on everything around him.

He'd come alone, with no backup and not even a phone call to Dobey to prelude his passage. Dobey as much as he was a support and an ally also represented bureaucracy, red tape and caution. Those three things alone were directly counterproductive to Hutch's resolve. By the end of this meeting he needed to know for sure one way or the other. Needed to know if in this house was the man who had held Starsky. The man in the film, the man with no face…..and the man who had done what he had done to his partner that had left Hutch shrouded in a haze of violent rage.

Burearacracy, red tape and caution would take too much time and would not put him at this gate pressing the intercom as he was now, until at least midway through the next day.

Hutch was here now. The only place he needed to be and the only place he would be at until he had the answers he needed.

Dobey would just have to deal with the consequences of his actions, as he knew he would too, tomorrow in the light of day.

Depressing the intercom, unable to stop himself from pushing all of is weight behind the press of the button key, he kept his finger down, the buzzing piercing into the night until a terse voice crackled through the box.

"Who the hell is this?"

"Is this the Calvetti residence?"

"Who is this? You know its past midnight and you won't be getting in here at this hour. Come back in business hours you idiot."

"No – you've got that wrong. I won't be coming back in business hours, I'm coming in now. Open the gates – it's the police. Open the damn gates now and tell Calvetti I need to see him now."

"It's late. Mr. Calvetti has retired for the evening."

"Well than I suggest you inform your boss that I haven't retired for the evening and unless he wants a far bigger commotion going on out here at the front of his house he'd better be ready to talk to me."

Only a small interval of time passed before he knew a decision had been made following a brief consultation.

It didn't surprise Hutch to see the here the click of electronics and to see the gates moving to open. Obviously Calvetti was prepared to look undaunted by the City Police calling upon him for an unscheduled visit well into the night or smell hours of the morning.

He drove the Torino up the drive all the while schooling his face and his mood to keep his true emotions and his real intent hidden during this preliminary interview. Running the risk of coming here without any authority put him in a precarious position to begin with and he couldn't afford to give Calvetti anymore advantage by accusing him out of line. He just needed to know if this was him, just needed to know for sure if this was the right track, than he would follow procedures in order to give Starsky the best chance of getting out of here alive.

But as he stood briefly at the huge front door waiting for his admittance, every step closer to the man that was in that film with Starsky had his resolve to keep his curdling rage in check sliding away.

A woman showed him into a front room, an opulent expanse of décor, and he was advised that the "Mr. Calvetti" would be with him soon.

He was not kept waiting and as a dark-haired man with what looked like curly hair stood at the doorway in the dim light, Hutch did a double take and his whole body jolted into shock. The resemblance to his partner's features had him momentarily off kilter till the man moved and the walk was nothing like that of Starsky's.

When the figure advanced further into the brighter interior of the room the light afforded Hutch his first full view of the man called Calvetti. Two things occurred almost simultaneously for him. The first was the sound of Starsky's familiar but pained voice playing in his head….

_Is that what this is all about? Making up for your past? And whatever happened to your face?_ ….

And the second was his brain's response to the implication of those words. The implication which was standing right in front of him now. A man with a markedly disfigured face. Hutch's right hand almost automatically reached under his jacket, his fingers making contact with his magnum. It took him all of ten seconds to pull his hand back down and force it to fall by his side; his fingers still curled and ready to do what he so vehemently wanted to do.

To blow a hole through this man's chest.

But giving into his trigger finger fantasy could mean he might never get Starsky back alive and would also mean this monster would not suffer as he had made his friend suffer. So he uncoiled his gun hand, closed his eyes against the fantasy of his instant death. When he next looked up his face wore a mask of aloof coolness.

He made Calvetti wait, staring him down before he flipped open his badge, his eyes never leaving the disfigured man's.

"Detective Kenneth Hutchinson – Homicide with Metro Police. I have reason to believe you may have something that I need."

"Need? At this time of night? Well whatever it is you're looking for, it must be damn well important to you to come barging into my private home at this hour without an appointment Detective."

Hutch wanted to enlighten him in the most forceful way as to how close to the truth those words were, but again he flexed and unflexed his gun hand. Looking at him again, he saw something in the other man's normal eye which made Hutch realise he may have already stepped into the ring for round one of the games. Had Calvetti chosen those words carefully to begin the mental sparring?

"Important? Yes you're correct Mr. Calvetti. What I am here for is very important – very important."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	16. Chapter 16

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 16**

* * *

**From Ch 15...**

"Detective Kenneth Hutchinson – Homicide with Metro Police. I have reason to believe you may have something that I need."

"Need? At this time of night? Well whatever it is you're looking for, it must be damn well important to you to come barging into my private home at this hour without an appointment Detective."

Hutch wanted to enlighten him in the most forceful way as to how close to the truth those words were, but again he flexed and unflexed his gun hand. Looking at him again, he saw something in the other man's normal eye which made Hutch realise he may have already stepped into the ring for round one of the games. Had Calvetti chosen those words carefully to begin the mental sparring?

"Important? Yes you're correct Mr. Calvetti. What I am here for is very important – very important."

* * *

Calvetti tipped his head a little to the side, taking the time to fix the tall blond in front of him with his one-eyed appraisal.

"So important as in important police business? You're investigating a crime then Detective ? And how might such a crime concern me? What is my possible involvement in your case?"

"The nature of the crime is not your concern Calvetti, I just need to ascertain some facts and to ask you a few questions."

"At this ungodly hour and without a warrant and – to arrive on my doorstep I might add with a more than obvious abrasive and discourteous edge to your manner. Do you address all the public in such an offhand tone - _Detective_ Hutchinson. I'd appreciate a little more decorum when you are addressing me."

"I don't need a warrant to interview you and the time is not an issue to us when we are following up crucial leads. As for my manner – well – let's just say I'm not in the most "courteous" of moods - _Calvetti_."

Hutch turned and walked about the room, stopping to pick up a book on the coffee table, a small artifact on a ledge, staring hard at an original piece of art hung above the fireplace. He turned back and asked.

"What sort of business do you run Calvetti? I haven't had time to do much of a background check on you so fill me in. What's your line of work – that can afford this obvious prestigious lifestyle I see around me?"

"You haven't given me a rationale for why you're here questioning me in the first place Detective. Surely some sort of explanation -"

"I did hear that you dabble in small movie production. Is that correct? What sort of movies do you specialize in Calvetti? What's the genre? Where is the recording studio or rooms you use?"

"That's a lot of questions with little or no purpose and no reason why I should answer them. If you've done some background on me which you obviously have, then you'll know the answer. My particular hobby however is light porn – there's a sizeable and lucrative market for it these days with the advent of video players not too far into all our futures."

"Light porn. Ok…so where are your studio rooms? Here in this house?"

"No. Not here in my own home. How distasteful."

Calvetti shifted his body and moved so his head turned partly into the strong lamplight, the unmarred side of his face more clearly visible. A sizeable blue greenish bruise that still held traces of inflamed redness and broken capillaries flared in the socket of the good eye.

_Starsky bringing his knee up with deft swiftness to smash into his tormenter's face._

Hutch's blood pressure jumped alarmingly and the telltale throb of imminent rage pulsed in his temple. Calvetti watched the blond watching him.

"Are you going to sit down Detective Hutchinson or are we going to stand like uncivilized men?"

"Me? I'm going to stand like an uncivilized man. I guess I find myself in that frame of mind tonight. Long day, long day yesterday too – bad couple of days in fact – and its getting worse. Some cases you know – some cases – like this one – they really push a man to want to – well to want to be completely uncivilized. You know what I mean Calvetti? Ever felt like that with something? When something really really grinds in your guts and drags on your nerves? Makes a man feel – like he wants to ….to forget that he was ever civilized, ever human."

Icy blue eyes probed the other man and the first signs of real wariness appeared in Calvetti.

Hutch paused for a second and shook his head as if trying to shake out this inhumane part of himself he had just described.

"Sorry. Sorry. I'm ventilating here. Shouldn't let this shit spill out when I'm interviewing – interested parties. I have to work on that Calvetti, I apologize for my behaviour."

But there was no trace of apology in him to match the words - rather his face was darkening with sardonic overtones as he continued on.

"Now getting back to my questions. By the way I think you should get some ice for that eye. Doesn't look good. Nasty number someone did on you there Calvetti. What happened?"

_Starsky's victorious voice as he watched Calvetti grapple with the pain of his smashed eye socket. _

Calvetti brought his hand up quickly to pat tentatively at his bruised eye and then stalked away to the nearby bar.

"It's nothing. Damn set of lights came crashing down and caught me unawares, clipped the side of my face. I need a drink. You?"

Hutch merely ignored him. He was too busy hearing Starsky's breathy curse….

_"Sadistic bastard! How do you like it? Hurts huh?"_

"You know I see more shiners in my line of work than you could ever imagine and get more shiners in my line of work too. If I didn't know better I'd say that looks to me like you've messed around with someone with a vicious elbow or knee – it's caught you deep in the eye socket - like a vicious jab. Been sparring with an enemy Calvetti?"

The decanter of whisky thudded back onto the bar's surface as Calvetti swung around with his glass in hand.

"What is this about Detective? Why are you here?"

"It seems Calvetti that you have come to our attention, concerning this case currently under investigation. You are a person of interest to us Calvetti. To me. See - like that black eye that's developing - I'm interested in that. I'm interested in _you."_

Something gleamed in Calvetti's one clear eye, and a quiet smugness crept into his mobile, undamaged features – a smugness that hadn't been there earlier.

" Well then, we seem to be developing a mutual interest in each other. I find it of note that you use the term "we" Hutchinson - "

Hutch noted the drop of his title and the slip from civility into level ground where each of them were now equals. Hutch's surname fell from his lips with a hint of contempt and he went on.

"Because I am a little curious as to why you are out late in the night, early morning, conducting interviews by yourself. Is it not the usual practice to work with a partner when investigating – a homicide?"

Calvetti caught the flinch, subtle but visible anywhere, at the mention of the term "homicide"."

"I never mentioned that I was investigating a homicide. In fact we are investigating a missing person case."

"Oh? My mistake. I just assumed...someone must have been murdered, some grisly case, some unfortunate who met his end in some cruel way...which of course it still could end up as when someone goes missing in this city. We live in violent times as I'm sure you know Hutchinson. Missing people often turn up as corpses. It might already be too late for your missing person as we both know. "

_He's taunting you...don't jump to it. He wants to plant the seed of fear that Starskys..._

Hutch ground his back teeth down hard, physically struggling to keep his mouth shut at the provocation.

"And so you are on this case by yourself? No partner to work alongside?"

"At the moment I'm without a partner."

" How – inconvenient for you. Is he ill? Injured in the line of duty? It must be hard working alone when you have that rhythm of a good working relationship."

Hutch could feel his fury at Calvetti's methodology. His measured, monotone questioning and carefully constructed sentences were eating into him already and he'd only been in the man's presence for a brief time. The man's affected politeness delivered with snide style was chalk screeching down a blackboard. Hutch's nerves stretched tighter.

Once again his friend's voice echoed in the corners of the expansive room. Hutch's turned quickly almost as though he might catch Starsky, hobbled, hurting, crouched on the floor in the corner, blood dripping from his chest and abdominal wounds, his back raw with lash marks.

_"Please just shut up. No more questions. Just leave me alone. I wanna get up off my damn knees now and I want ya' to just stop drillin' me."_

Calvetti's contorted face was intent as it studied him. For a frightening moment Hutch thought the other man might be able to see what he was seeing in his mind, hear what he was hearing - so intent was his watchfulness of him. It was as though he knew exactly what silent anguish was inside Hutch's head.

And suddenly the game was becoming too stifling for him. Enough of this careful, high-level pseudo bullshitting. He knew and Calvetti knew as they stared each other down where they were both coming from. Something deep and integral inside of Hutch snapped and he knew that he was about to to cross a road in professional ethics and procedure that could not be reversed.

In fact he didn't give a shit about procedure right this minute. All he wanted was to squeeze the truth out of this depraved man and to rip his heart out with his bare hands when he had the admission of his culpability.

"Try to remember Calvetti, that I ask the questions not you. I ask nicely, you answer. You don't answer, I stop asking nicely and the whole process starts to go pear-shaped. I'm tired Calvetti. I'm tired and I'm really pissed off, really pissed off – almost – well put it this way…I don't think I'm up for much more on this case. It's getting to a point where I can't hold it in anymore. Not a good place to be. I'm sure you know that feeling Calvetti? It's not good, particularly for a cop to feel like that – particularly…."

As he spoke his hand moved under his jacket to close slowly and unmistakably over the butt of his magnum.

"Particularly a cop with a loaded gun and a – well you picked it straight up Calvetti – a bad attitude. So let's try to kick this damn interview into gear ok? Person of interest. Remember that? I'm here right now because you are of interest to the department and all leads need to be explored. Follow me so far? Or aren't you used to being the one who gets questioned and interrogated? You don't look too comfortable with all of this Calvetti."

"I'm not comfortable with your approach to this whole interview. Your behaviour is unorthodox and unprofessional. I find you dramatic and unnecessarily threatening."

"Well shit! That's no good is it? To have you feeling uncomfortable because of my line of questioning and my style of interviewing. I just thought being in the movie business Calvetti, that you would have a flair for the dramatics. But maybe you do and you just don't like being on the other side of the production. After all you're the Director of your films aren't you? Used to calling the shots, moving the actors around the set, telling them what to do and what to say – how to act – maybe – maybe even how to feel. That's what you do isn't it? Make people do what you want them to do, act and feel how you want them to. Am I right here in my assumptions Mr. Director?"

" I can't see where you're even beginning to go with any of this…"

"Do you use drugs on your closed movie sets Calvetti?"

"Drugs?"

"Yeah drugs. Not such a difficult concept to grasp is it? You're looking confused, off guard. I want to know about your adaption of drug use with your actors and your employees. After all remember I am a cop and cops, well we make it our business to latch on to any illicit use of drugs."

"Why would you ask me such a question? What possible evidence –"

"Do you like to disempower your actors – is that what you call them – actors, or maybe – I don't know – subjects perhaps. Do you like to get the upper hand by the use of illegal drug substances administered to them without their consent?"

Calvetti said nothing just narrowed his eyes at the blond.

"That was an official question in case you missed it Calvetti. You are meant to answer that one. I'm waiting for an answer, but in the meantime while you're struggling with that one let me ask you another. You mentioned pornography – as your chosen genre. Do you also dabble in any physical violence, graphic violence in your productions? Hmmnn?"

The tall blond leaned into him now, bending down and penetrating Calvetti's personal body space. The crease in his brow was furrowed in sheer concentration to stave off some invisible internal battle to keep his hands from the disfigured man's neck.

_"You will learn that I have the power to hurt you and to take some of that hurt away David."_

"Does pain do it for you in your movies Calvetti? Mental, physical pain? Do you like to have your characters suffer? Suffer for the camera? Suffer for the Director? For you Calvetti? Do you get off with watching people hurt and to hurt them? Are you what I think you are? Are you a very, very, sick fucker Calvetti?"

And suddenly the tables were turned.

Calvetti settled his glass down on the side table without managing to react to the barely suppressed contorted rage in Hutch's face, he aimed a well place psychological kick to his opponent's middle. The power of the blow had Hutch reeling back almost as though Calvetti had literally lashed out and struck him.

"Where exactly again did you say your partner was Hutchinson? You never did clarify why you are not partnered up."

The animal in him could no longer be contained. He had not wanted to be like this. He'd lost himself in those first few moments when the man on the phone at Huggy's had given him an address, this address, and verified the name of Calvetti. With those details in his mind and a goal to head toward, Hutch's first thoughts were terrifyingly destructive ones. The images of Starsky lying on his knees, flinching as the knife cut into him, crying out as the white hot knife seared his chest were so clear and so fresh in his mind. And the faceless man who had ordered his suffering, watching him suffer before then delivering his own brutal torment...

Two thoughts - Starsky suffering and an address. Clean cut and so simple. No thought to it. He would drive straight to the home and kill this man called Calvetti.

But of course reason and rationale pushed their way in and outweighed his instinctive need to destroy this man.

By the time he had arrived at the Calvetti's gate he had put himself and the situation back into a more cool headed perspective. He had to remain methodical and he could not afford to become unhinged. Starsky's life depended upon it.

The fact that he had even come like this, without back up, no plan, no sanction by Dobey - was bad enough. And yet he had been powerless to stop himself from running headlong toward his partner's place of confinement.

And worse here he was now storming the man's home and inner sanctity and quickly losing the fight to smash right through the man himself. Such a stupid futile move but a protective hostile reflex that he couldn't control. His brain told him no and his soul called for vengeance. His inner control was degenerating. The furnace inside his head was threatening to explode.

He couldn't master any higher level rationalization, couldn't convince himself that he was doing more harm than good for Starsky, couldn't contain the spewing vomit of white hot rage that was going to engulf him and Calvetti.

Calvetti's last taunt took him up and over the edge; he hovered on the lip of the wall and stared down at almost certain self-destruction.

_Shut up Hutch. Pull back…pull back now. You do this, you finish this and Calvetti will take it out on Starsky. Right now he's alive, you can feel it in your blood, in your gut, in your heart. But you do this, you push him any further, and have no back up to bust this joint open, you're condemning Starsky to even worse than he's been through. Push it back in, hold it inside. _

But even now it was too late. Too late to quell his hunger for Starsky's retribution. His inner beast had snapped its chains and was free, rising up and lunging at the scar faced man who still sat unprepared for the sudden onslaught.

Hutch had him in his hold in moments. Up off the chair and swept across the room, Calvetti's body was trapped in crushing hands that dragged him up and propelled him with brutal force through space. The wall was the first immovable barrier that stopped the forward propulsion and Calvetti's body collided violently with its stationary resistance. With a slew of defamatory accusations Hutch had him slammed against the wall, his voice harsh and guttural, as he snapped out each expletive.

He drew in a ragged breath and tried to calm himself momentarily.

"I'm trying real hard here Calvetti. I've been trying real hard since I first saw you in this room not to do what I need so badly to do to you. Do you want to know how much I want to break your sick body, right this minute – with these bare hands that are holding you now? Look down at them Calvetti! Look down at my hands and see how much they're shaking and then look at my eyes. Look! Can you see it there? How much I want to hurt you?"

He hissed through drawn lips and clenched teeth and pressed his face almost eye to eye with the scarred man's.

Calvetti clipped back at him.

"You're out of line as a cop and out of control completely Hutchinson. Your behavior is quite – insane. Yes I can see that in your eyes. I see a man who has lost all control and is no longer acting like a cop here to conduct an interview. You're disassembling in front of me Hutchinson, and a disassembled mental state renders a man weak."

"Shut your fucking pretentious mouth! I've heard enough of your pseudo militaristic bullshit. Bottom line Calvetti, I'm not here as a cop, I'm not here as a law enforcer, I'm here as myself, as a man's partner. Understand the difference for Christ's Sake! You're right Calvetti, I am breaking apart, I have been since I saw what you did to him, how much you hurt him, you and your sick sideshow of freaks. "

Hutch had the satisfaction of seeing Calvetti jolt, his eyes staring in the near distance as though working through something.

"That's impossible."

But even as he said it Calvetti knew one man would make it very possible. _Marty_.

Hutch shook his prey violently and moved one hand down to Calvetti's shoulder; the other continued to dig firmly into his throat. But Calvetti never struggled, never fought back and his lack of defensive response only proved to incense Hutch further.

"You know how much damage a man can inflict on another man with just his hands Calvetti? I know you do. Got a history there somewhere haven't you? You been in the jungles of Nam, maybe trained up by the services before whatever happened to your face ended your career? Yeah you know Calvetti – you understand human strength and how potent it becomes when its fuelled by rage. My rage is mounting every moment, it's getting harder to hold in check."

He gouged his fingers deep into the space deep between Calvetti's deltoid heads and pectoral muscles and waited for the reaction. Calvetti blanched and squirmed trying to pull away, his eyes closing against the electrical jolt.

"Where are you holding Starsky? Start talking."

"You have no legal right to be here, to be questioning me like this. What you are doing now is criminal pure and simple and I will have you for it Hutchinson. Your career will be ruined."

"How will you have me Calvetti? Will you have your guards beat me up, knife me, burn me? That's a favorite of yours isn't it – knifing with heat. But then I 'm not your type am I Calvetti? You don't go for blonds do you? …WHERE IS HE?"

"Quite simply he's not here. It is time for you to leave my premises Detective Hutchinson. We both know you are here on false grounds and that you're acting well outside normal procedural conduct. You have no authority here. One phone call and I will have your behavior here tonight under close scrutiny by higher parties. You must realize that I have security cameras in every room of my house and that your unprofessional performance is being recorded."

"I'm sure you do. You like filming people and particularly like it when you can capture your subjects in pain. Well film me all you like you bastard because I'm not drawing my weapon on you and not threatening you at gunpoint – the footage will show that I am merely grappling with a reluctant and difficult suspect who refused to give information. But of course if you call in your henchmen I'll have no option but to draw my weapon will I? So let's just leave this talk between you and me and your cameras ok? Now you're going to come with me and you're going to show me around your very nice comfortable home aren't you?"

"You have no warrant to search my property or my possessions so get out Hutchinson."

"No I don't have a warrant – not yet anyway. But I don't need a warrant for you to show me your home do I? Not when you've so kindly offered. My gun is in its holster Calvetti. It's staying there for now. …Unless you get me frustrated and I need to draw it. Unless you get my fingers itching to prime the trigger. Don't make me wait any longer. I'm out of patience. Lets go. Show me around this mansion of yours."

"Your superior will hear of this tomorrow."

But he moved away from the wall and preceded Hutch as he walked out of the opulent meeting room.

"You're damn fucking right he'll hear about it tomorrow. Every detail of your involvement in my partner's abduction. Now move."

Once out of the room Hutch pulled out his gun and held it loosely but ready at his side.

Calvetti looked behind him at the sound of the gun cocking and then back up at the other man's face.

"Don't looked so shocked, I'm not holding it on you you spineless piece of shit. It's just a gun Calvetti. Cops carry guns and we like to be prepared. I just don't want any unpleasant surprises waiting for me behind any of these closed doors. Stay with me – there nice and close to me. I hope all your doors are unlocked – you know we cops have a bad habit of kicking doors in when we can't get access to a room."

One by one Hutch moved through each room with Calvetti at his side, his vigilance on alert, his gun ready. He swept into the first few rooms with his usual precautionary approach, gun out in front of him, but nothing was waiting to provoke him into action.

The two of them carried on through the house and although some of the doors had number pad locks, Calvetti obliged in entering in the codes, his body language unperturbed and his face an open challenge to each direction issued by the increasingly agitated blond.

"So do you like my home Hutchinson? Perhaps not, as it does appear to be missing a certain something that you a looking for isn't that right?"

Calvetti smirked as they emerged from the last small room under the stairway. Hutch had sheathed his gun and was pacing ahead into foyer, fury evident in his taut body.

Hutch did a double take when a woman emerged from a room at the bottom of the staircase. She was moving briskly and spared him only a cursory glance as she moved toward the stairs and started to ascend.

In his mind he saw the film and the faces that surrounded and taunted Starsky. His disturbing recall of the film interfaced with the woman on the stairs.

"_Cassandra? You wanna hurt me with that?" _

The images of the woman pressing close to Starsky, gouging his chest with the hot knife, clawed at him from inside. The pulse in his temple intensified and it felt as though its forceful throbbing would split open his skin.

In seconds he had taken the stairs in wide strides until he grabbed at her arm and swung her viciously around to face him. She screamed and lashed out at his hands but he easily pushed her arm down and grabbed her face to turn it from the darkened stairwell toward the light below.

"You! You bitch! "

Hutch's fingers seized on her upper arm and squeezed with unspent frustration. Her mewling cry did nothing to stop him and he only shook her harder. "You're the one he called Cassandra. You're the one who stabbed him in the chest with a fucking branding knife. Where has Calvetti got him? Tell me now or I'll ….."

_I'll break your arm in two… so very easy to do and I so very much want to do it to you. To watch you scream and writhe in pain like you made Starsky writhe and moan. _

But he bit off the murderous threat and breathed through the desire to crush her flesh under his hands.

_Stop it. Hold it. The security cameras will catch your threats and ultimately that will only allow Calvetti to win. Keep it in. Keep the vengeance in …. Until later._

"Get your hands of my employee Hutchinson! Enough! I've had enough of you and your violence for one night! Back off now or I will call the guards and then you'll be dealing with more than just my complaint to your Department. I want you out of my home this minute or I will not delay any further in calling this disturbance in. Am I understood?"

Hutch turned slowing on the stair, one hand still wrapped about the top of Cassandra's arm but less tightly now, his breath jagged as he shared his vehemence between the man at the foot of the stairwell and the scowling struggling woman still restrained in his grip.

"It's all a fucking game to you isn't it Calvetti? How many others have you treated like you've treated my partner, done to them what you've done to him? A crazy sonofabitch, crazier than even you if that's possible, told me that. Told me about you Calvetti. Told me of the others you have taken."

"What - so the cops are taking the word of psychotic cult figures as a basis for their investigations now? How inspiring for the public. "

It didn't surprise Hutch that Calvetti had connected Simon Marcus to his implied words. After all whoever arranged Starsky's abduction had obviously used his and Starsky's recent involvement with Marcus to sidetrack the search for him.

"Aren't you a little concerned you psycho flake that you are so bent, so messed up in the head that someone as ill and as evil as Marcus has been able to read your own perverted behaviour?"

"If your incarcerated psychotic has been so helpful to your investigation why haven't you found your partner yet Hutchinson? Maybe his disturbed hallucinations are nothing more than that. Not much to build your case on is it? The thoughts of a madman?"

Releasing Cassandra's arm from his talon like hold, no longer interested in her, he descended toward the scarred face man at the foot of the stairs.

"The others were different though. The others you have taken... "Nobodies" he called them….and I'm sure he's right. Maybe up until now you've fed your sick appetite for torture by preying on Nobodies who just happen to fit your preferred profile. And you've been safe – to a point - because so far no one has gone looking too hard for those poor bastards, lost men with no homes and no backgrounds."

He was upon him now…only inches from the distorted face, the mobile unaffected side considering his every move, every cadence of his voice.

Again he pinned him visually with cold blue beams. He noted with victory that Calvetti had the decency to shrivel just a little from his penetrative stare , sheer unveiled hatred conveyed in those expressive eyes. Calvetti stepped back just a fraction and looked to his side perhaps planning an exit route. He had the cornered, trapped look of a perp who at any moment might take flight from the looming blond threat.

"But my partner – you see when you took my partner Calvetti. When you laid your hands on _him - _no, no - even _before_ you hurt him, you made a mistake. You changed your whole game plan when you decided to put Starsky in your target. Starsky is not a "Nobody" Calvetti – you understand me? Your "_David" _is my partner, and in our world, Starsky's and mine, partners don't get messed with, taken by others and ….most of all Calvetti –"

He swiveled on his heel to catch Cassandra with his arctic beam cutting short her aborted attempt to slink away from his commanding presence.

" Partners don't get tortured. Not while the other is still around to do something about it. I'm not going to leave you alone until I get my partner back and you pay for what you've done to him. You don't get to hurt him and then get to live peaceably with it."

Pulling back from Calvetti's face he fixed him with one last long look and then strode to the door.

"You won't be permitted access to my house again Hutchinson."

The words were flung across the expanse of the foyer as Hutch ripped open the heavy front door.

"Next time I come to this house I won't need permission you stupid fuck. Anyway, it's not your house I want Calvetti – its you – and I'll stop at nothing to get the access I need to your sordid life in order to tear you down."

The snarled words hung in the vacuous foyer long after the heavy front door slammed shut.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH 

He was gone. Silence once more reigned in the high open vaults of the entrance hall and the rooms off to the side of the foyer.

With the blond's malevolent vengeance still reverberating in his head, Calvetti moved out of instinct toward the phone. He wanted nothing more than to head to the library where his full bar was readily stocked and the privacy was ensured. He desperately needed the splash of hard liquor onto the back of his throat and five minutes to himself to collect his thoughts. But right now he could not afford even that meager allotment of private time.

Cassandra was hovering in his periphery, clinging to herself, her arms wrapped over the parts of her upper arm where the frenzied cop had manhandled her – the delicate porcelain skin already blooming into bruises. Calvetti eyed her with condescension as though somehow she had failed him although she had done nothing to provoke or to lead the blond. Nonetheless his mood was sour and she was in his line of fire.

His prized recent acquisition was at risk of being taken from him.

Hutchinson had found him and now the threat that David would be taken from him was more than real.

He had only just begun to enjoy him - to explore their relationship and to understand the depth of what could be a fulfilling experience. Damn Hutchinson to hell and back! He didn't want to kill David, nor would that alleviate any of the difficulties that lay ahead for him. But he also couldn't sit back and let this one man army that was Detective Hutchinson sweep all that he had cultivated away from him.

He and Hutchinson were at a standoff - they both wanted David Starsky.

_Well - you want him so bad Hutchinson - you come get him and beware every legal loophole you'll have to jump through to get him back._

Calvetti might be a criminal and he might lead a life that encroached well beyond the edges of all that was grimy and dangerous in this big, indecent city. But he was also a man who thought deeply. And in the last days he had revelled in the levels his mind was taking him while he successfully brought David Starsky under his control.

Weeks ago he had set his sights on the man he held imprisoned and once he had secured possession of him he didn't feel too kindly to anyone who wanted to take him from him.

Cassandra's simpering reaction to what Hutchinson had done to her on the step had him annoyed. She was stepping too far out of character for his liking. She was best cast in her role as female sadist and he had minimal tolerance for her in any other capacity.

"Get the two guards on tonight ready – inform them of what has happened. Go in and check on him – make sure he not overly awake and alert. We need to get him under again. We're moving from here within the next hour or so. Secure him first and then take care of any evidence in the studio room. I need to make a phone call – there is a leaking mess that I need to clean up and fast."

"Yes I hear you - but - he didn't find anything and he has no real evidence….."

"You little fool. He has the film we shot with David. Somehow he's got it. Even without that being admissible he'll have enough to get a warrant and be back here by early daylight. Next time he arrives here we won't be able to stop him going further and deeper. Next time you and any of the staff will be taken back with him to his station. He'll break you and any of those dickhead thugs I hire down in ten minutes. Now do as I say and get him ready to move. This place is no longer safe for any of us."

She nodded mutely and withdrew.

His hand picked up the phone and jabbed in the number in moments. The extended ring of the dial did not concern him. He would simply keep phoning until she realized he wasn't giving up.

"Camilla?" She had picked up the phone on the final edges of his second call.

"Yes its me. Be quiet and listen. Your friend has decided to rethink his position on our business venture….our latest victim seems to have gotten under his skin, or maybe you already knew that and just never bothered to warn me? "

His face was garish in the lamplight as he listened impatiently to the response down the line.

"Whatever…it's too late for recriminations – Marty's delivered me up on a platter to the blond partner and he is out for blood. My blood now, but soon it will be yours too Camilla. We need to close the trails down and stamp out the tracks. I'm otherwise occupied moving David Starsky and closing down my small operation here. He's your ….. your associate, ex lover whatever the hell you chose to call him Camilla – he's your responsibility."

Time was limited and he needed to convey to her the urgency with which she needed to act. It was his aim to impress upon her the real and very imminent danger that the partner of their latest acquisition posed for them both.

"I want to hear that you've cleaned up this leak by midday today ….its going on for 2 am now. Hutchinson will have half the city's force breaking down my doors in hours and soon he'll be on your doorstep. He's got Marty in his pocket now Camilla and he'll spill his guts all over the place. You need to take him out Camilla. Take Marty out and get it done sooner than later. If you don't take care of him you know I will – and – I'll make sure to take care of all of the other major signposts leading to the centre of my business Camilla - including you."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SHSHSH


	17. Chapter 17

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 17**

* * *

Starsky lay still and quiet.

His pain was constant now, dull and muted, not as it had been when the sharp tipped arrows of it pierced his chest, abdomen and back. Now it was just a background grinding of ache and throbbing, swollen tissue and stretched skin, the spasm of torn muscles and tender flesh.

But he remained inert and withdrawn. He was once more inside of his shell, willing the white room and the cold air to recede and leave him in warm darkness with only his own mind for company. But his own mind was becoming destructive to him also, convincing him to doubt what was left of his tattered hopes that there might ever be an end to this hellish void.

Two voices tried to invade his shell.

The voices were close and were also carefully modulated – mindful of his presence and initially wary that he might be awake and capable of hearing their low tones. But his unresponsive body and still form must have deceived them enough for their conversation, at first tentative once the door to his room had been opened, continued on as they moved about his room. The male guard who had entered with the woman was moving about the room, reaching up and fiddling with the cameras, adjusting their angles. The female whose voice he recognized as Cassandra's was placing something on the nearby table. He sensed her stillness as though she was observing him.

He wanted them nowhere near them. He wanted them gone and to he wanted so very very much to not be here anymore. No amount of willing them away was going to work though and their presence lingered.

Cassandra hovered near him and he felt her bending in low to study his face. His shallow even breathing caught the unique smell that lingered about her and his senses sparked with a frisson of energy.

The scent that clung to her and now wafted over him at first saddened him and then confused him.

His brain was deciphering and cataloguing what his sense of smell was telling him. Elusive it moved away from his grasp when she moved away from him, but then in a second his tired brain retrieved the information. But it couldn't be possible ….. just a coincidence….or his exhausted mind playing disturbing tricks on him.

She must have moved closer again for the scent was back - strong and reminiscent, achingly familiar and a balm to his tormented mind.

The scent of Hutch.

Woodsy, citrus soap mingled with Hutch's long term preferred aftershave and underscored with the essence of his own body's odors – his sweat, his clothes detergent, his deodorant, shampoo – all layering together to form the essence of him.

Distinctive.

Unmistakably Hutch – unmistakable to Starsky as he was as familiar with the scent of his friend as he was his own body.

But how? Hutch had been here? Cassandra had been near Hutch? When? When?

No - it was impossible. Hutch thought he was dead. Any investigation had been pulled and no-one was looking for him.

But the scent of his partner was so strong and so convincingly real.

He struggled to remain still in the face of such a stimulus. He couldn't allow himself to be seduced by his own depression.

Part of him wanted to spring up and demand how the hell this was possible, that Cassandra was carrying the smell of Hutch on her clothes and body. The other part of him feared for his sanity. It could not be real and was all in his head.

Had he gone that far that he was imagining smells? What next? Hallucinations of Hutch standing in the corner of the room and watching over him?

It was so hard to remain still and implacable. It was hard not to begin to hope again.

The answers came soon.

The guard was not happy with the latest direction from Calvetti.

"So why do we need to drug him again if he's already out to it? Why don't we just bundle him up as he is now and get him ready for the van? Anyway what's the damn rush? Calvetti say we had to do this right now? Hell Cassandra it's freaking the middle of the night. No one's gonna come here till daylight. This stinks I want to go back to my bunk and forget about this shit. "

"No way. Calvetti wants him out asap. Got to move him to safer ground. You didn't see the guy – his partner. Damn well nearly broke my arm and I swear Calvetti has never looked so intimidated by anyone. This guy, the other cop, he's going to be back with the whole damn force behind him and I know he wants to tear this place apart. He didn't find the passage tonight but he didn't have a warrant to look too deeply. It's only a matter of time before they find this place."

_Then he was right. His keen perceptiveness had not misled him; his mind was not trying to pull him in to some sick delusions of nostalgia. Hutch had been here – been somewhere near here tonight – just only recently. His smell still clinging to Cassandra's clothes and body. "Damn well nearly broke my arm"….he had grappled with her, and had searched Calvetti's home. So where in the hell was he being kept? If not inside Calvetti's home, where? Had to be nearby. He remembered vaguely when he had first arrived and the large garage the van had driven into. Was he not on the property itself? What was the word she'd used – "passage"? Somewhere close but not in the actual home. Some sort of passage? What the hell was this place?_

For an exhilarating moment he allowed the realisation that Hutch was on the trail, the right trail, filter through his bone aching weariness. The knowledge that his partner was nearer to him than he had ever hoped was the hook that he needed to pull him back from the edge. So close, so close to falling over the precipice and hurtling into nothingness that he hadn't even cared.

Now he had something he could fight toward, something to keep trying for, a chink of light to the inky depression that had begun to envelope him.

Hutch had provided a window for him, the glimmer of hope he had been missing. Now he just had to inch toward it and once there try to hold it open long enough until they both could crawl out together.

He had to stay alive. Fight to stay alive. Until Hutch could get to him.

"Ok, then as he's out to it anyway you can give him that shot and I'll go and get the van ready. I'll bring back the gurney and we can get him loaded – you'll have him completely unconscious by the time I'm back."

Starsky listened as the guard retreated from the room.

Cassandra moved in with the tray she had picked up from the table – through hooded eyes Starsky saw the syringe and covered needle.

Well he wasn't going to go easily this time.

He figured on resurrecting some of his dormant rebellious attitude and flexing the part of him that had been trampled into submission.

Time and chaos.

He wanted to buy a bit of each for Hutch. It was the least he could do to help out his partner who was no doubt right now head to head in a paper battle trying to wrestle a warrant out of some stiff backed judge who like most people would have a healthy dislike for being woken in the small hours of the morning. He could see Hutch, hear him, imagine him and his frantic relentless fight for him, his partner.

As Cassandra tapped the syringe and lightly touched his outer arm seeking the best spot to deliver the needle he was once again rocked by the familiar scent that clung to her. The impact of what a familiar smell could conjure up in the human mind was complex but for him its result was simple and direct. It was like a kick to his starter motor and in it he found the vitality he needed to act.

Unwittingly Cassandra had brought his partner to him and he no longer felt so alone.

As her hair brushed his chest and her breath exhaled with concentration, Starsky reared up and in one smooth practiced move he had her in his grasp the needle knocked flying from her hand as he cursed roughly.

"Drop it you bitch. No more drugs – I've had enough of them. Now co-operate and don't struggle. You're going to be my bait and together we're going to reel in your boss. I said….don't struggle, I'm not feelin' to good and if you upset me I might just lose control of my hands and hurt you. Stay still and do as I say and I won't lash out and hurt you."

Her body with its skin redolent of Hutch spurred him on when he thought he might stagger and lose his balance. The grip that had wavered for a moment, tightened and his conviction was further fuelled.

He pulled her slight body harder toward his wounded chest and used the strength in his uninjured arm to pin her against him.

Fighting down the faintness and the slivers of pain lancing up and down his chest and abdominals he pivoted his body with Cassandra in front of him and directed his voice at the camera above.

"Calvetti! For once your cameras serve a purpose. I've got your little sick helper here. I'm sure you're watching or having someone watch us. I'm going to wait for you to come in here and until you do I'm not letting her go. I might be banged up pretty bad, but there's nothin' wrong with my arms and my hands. You don't want me to squeeze the life out of her then get your ass in here now. We need to talk Calvetti. You need to tell me about what you can do to make me happier, because I gotta tell you freak, I've not been feeling so happy lately with the way you and your other freak helpers here have been treatin' me."

Cassandra writhed beneath his hold.

"You're stupid. Do you think you can possibly break out of here by holding me as some sort of hostage? Look at the way you are! You can barely stand up let alone fight and run while holding me. Let me go! Just let me go."

Her derision of him only spurred him on more and he doubled his efforts to make his hold on her uncomfortable.

"Obviously Cassandra you don't know me very well. I am one stubborn sonofabitch when I decide to be and right now I've had all I can take from you and your Mr. Calvetti. You're the fool here. You're prepared to go down with this man and everything that will be thrown at him if he continues to hold me here and worse if he kills me? A cop killer Cassandra. Think about it. Cop killers don't do too well out there in the real world. He'll go down hard when he's caught and you'll go down with him. Hell he'll probably throw you to the wolves. You think he's gonna support you when the shit hits the fan? Think about your choices Cassandra. You can help me here – we can work together."

"I know what you're trying to do David and its pointless. For a start you know I'm being watched right now – you know that. You know you can't do anything with me to fight your way out of here. Why are you doing this? All you're going to do is end up with more punishment being dealt out to you."

And of course he knew exactly that.

But it all served a purpose. Anything he could do now to unsettle and unhinge, rattle and shake the status quo of this sordid little operation – it would bring some small measure of satisfaction to his resentment of this man and what he had done to him. And it would cause a hindrance to his plans.

Hutch would be back.

And the more shit he stirred up in this sewer the more time it would take for Calvetti to cover his tracks and clear out of wherever this place was, this prison cell, somewhere obviously near Calvetti's own private residence.

Cassandra shuffled in his arms, his chest flared in response to the friction on his inflamed skin and wounds, but he held fast and belligerently called at the cameras again.

"Hey Calvetti! It don't worry me how long you take to come in here. I got no where I need to be and the longer you keep your distance from me the better. But just know I'm not letting her go and whatever you had planned for my next little move isn't going to be happening anytime soon while I'm holding on here."

As he spoke to the eye of the camera he pulled Cassandra back with him into the furthest corner of the room facing the door.

"Don't send one of your muscle boys in here, not unless you want her neck broken. I'm waiting."

But in truth he didn't know how long he could wait, how long he could keep standing while applying enough force to restrain the woman. He barely had the capability to hold himself up and he let his tortured body slump a little against the wall for support.

The door opened and Calvetti took several decisive strides into the room before signaling for the guard behind him to close the door and leave him alone with Starsky and Cassandra.

"You constantly surprise me David. You refused to let the guard finish you off and ease you out of the excruciating sexual tension you were under. All you had to do was let him help you for a few moments and you would have found that release. But your iron like pride and determination stood in the way."

"Yeah you would have liked the floorshow wouldn't ya' - ya' sick pervert. Bet you had your own dick in your hands while you were watchin' me with your little bimbo while she crawled all over me. Then you wanted the finale didn't ya'? Fancy the big brutes you employ yourself Calvetti? Is that why you wanted him to perform with me? Get to double your kicks? You depraved asshole. Well I ain't that desperate that I'm gonna perform like some sex toy for you while I still have some level of control over what happens to me."

"So is your ability to retain your control what this is all about David? Demanding I come here to talk about your freedom while you hold Cassandra as your leverage? Its gutsy I'll give you that – stupid, but gutsy. I had begun to think you had given up. Not just broken in spirit but broken completely. Now here you are full of anger and fight again."

"I'm not gonna make this easy for you Calvetti. You sent this bitch in again to drug me – another move isn't it? Why? Why're you wantin' to move me Calvetti?

Thought you had me just how you wanted me. Isn't that what all this shit has been about? All this "breakin' down my spirit" crap? Now you wanta to move me? What's changed?"

He wanted to see it for himself, the evidence that Hutch had been here and unnerved Calvetti. He wanted the luxury of finally watching this man struggle just a bit for supremacy and control. He wanted Calvetti to admit that he had lied about Hutch believing he was dead and that the search for him had been suspended.

"My operation is such that I need to move you onto the next phase of how I work with my subjects. You are valuable not just to me personally David, but in the money you will bring for me on the market. I'd like to think I could keep you for longer but then the longer I selfishly hold you, the less my return on you at auction. Time to transport you to the next step of my operations – I'm putting you up for auction."

"Yeah in the middle of the night or whatever fuckin' time it is? No I think there's more to it than that and either way I'm not in the mood for being transported. Now lets talk about how you're gonna let me outta this place or your little helper here might not be coming back to work for you."

"David don't be ridiculous. This 'last man standing' act is futile. I can remain here all night and play along or you can just give it up now. You'll be on the floor within ten minutes anyway; you're far too weak. What are you hoping to gain by this act of bravado?"

"I gain the chance to spit in your face you dickhead. I gain a feeling of pleasure making you work harder to bring me down. I'm so pissed off I want to break you up into small pieces for what you've done to me, for how you've made me feel. So holding her " he shook Cassandra's body for emphasis " gives me something to take my frustrations out on. And hell Calvetti – I just don't want to make this so easy for you anymore, not while I can still stand."

Starsky saw the gun then. It somehow surprised him. That Calvetti would have a gun to draw on him. Left of center for the twisted unconventional character he had come to know a little about in the last couple of days.

"Not your usual style Calvetti. Thought you were more a knife or a whip man. What's the occasion? You feelin' desperate, cornered? In a hurry so you need some action fast?"

"Guns have their place. Now step away from her so that I can have the guard restrain you again. We need to sedate you for the move."

"You're looking pressured Calvetti. Not your usual cool self."

"Its very late and I'm tired of your resistance. Time is money to me and I need to get you moved."

"Sure you do you fuckin' liar. You're shit scared now that your castle is gonna be overturned by cops with a warrant in no time. A swat team is gonna ransack this joint of yours and all your dirty little secrets are gonna be up for show ain't that right?"

And there it was. The look of shock that Starsky had wanted to see was on his scarred up face and then the sudden jerk of his gun hand betrayed the fact that Starsky had upset his concentration.

"I'm not dead am I Calvetti? There was no burned out body was there? And even if there was it wasn't obviously airtight enough to convince Hutch that it was me. He's paid you a visit hasn't he? My partner's been here tonight – or somewhere near wherever this fuckin' hole you're holdin' me in is? That's why you're rattled Calvetti. That's why I can see those beads of sweat on your brow. Maybe I'll just pull up here in this corner and wait for him to come back with that warrant, whata ya reckon?"

"Your active imagination again David? A dream perhaps? A dream brought on by your hope that you'll be found."

"He was here. Hutch was here. I just know."

"My staff has been remiss. There will be serious repercussions."

Starsky wasn't bothered to tell him that he knew Hutch had been there even before Cassandra let it slip. His sixth sense where his partner was concerned was not something he wanted this man to even begin to examine or question.

"OK then David. Yes your partner was here. Hostile, aggressive and pushy as all hell. Someone, a person in Camilla's employ, and who will pay dearly for his actions, went to your partner with footage of our little production. I can tell you your friend was highly upset at your acting debut - I don't think your performance pleased him very much. All a bit too tragic and dramatic for his preferences. So he blew out some steam and made a show of trying to find you in my home. But it was a wasted visit for him. Obviously. You're still here aren't you? He didn't uncover your whereabouts, didn't take you from me. He had to leave my home with nothing for his trouble but increased frustration and worry at the knowledge that I will do everything now to take you even further away from him."

"Damn it! Hutch saw the shit with that damn interrogation you filmed? Oh Christ ..."

"My sentiments exactly David. Sensitive footage meant for a certain audience who can appreciate the art and the psychology - not suitable for public consumption and certainly not something I think your partner would think was in your best interests David. But this is what happens when we work with people that we cannot really trust. They always seem to find ways to disappoint us. So once more David, step aside from Cassandra."

"Or what? You won't shoot me; you and I both know that. You've put too much time into me - doing whatever sick shit you do. You've brought me to the level I'm at now – or the damaged level you think you've brought me to. And you wanna sell me. Get some big bucks from some sex starved queer. Some bored executive who has shiploads of money to spend on his sick hobby. You won't damage the merchandise any further than you already have Calvetti. So all in all I think you're not gonna shoot me and in my opinion you look outta place with that piece of metal in your hand."

"You're so convinced I won't shoot or kill you David?"

"Yeah I am. Call it my cop instincts."

"Well maybe your cop instincts are working for you David...I'm not going to kill you."

The explosive retort in the small room crashed into his head and his body was propelled back by the force of the impact.

A scream rang out and then a muffled moan. He heard his own cry echo against Cassandra's as they both lost their footing and stability, the bullet breaking them apart as the small missile found its target. Cassandra jolted away from his grasp and fell to the floor in a heap as he scrabbled behind him on the wall for some purchase.

"Jesus Christ Calvetti! What the fuck!"

Starsky had barely computed what had happened, his body registering shock but no new pain, his eyes quickly sought Cassandra as she pushed her upper body up from the floor. She was wailing loudly in pain and fear, contorting her body in agony as though she was trying to separate herself from her right leg. She was staring down at her leg in horror, her eyes fixated on the entry wound on her upper thigh, the gored burned flesh spouting blood like a small fountain.

"I had to hit her low to move her away from you David. You were right in saying that I wouldn't shoot you. But I never said I came in here with this gun to do that. You simply assumed that. You had her up too close to your body – I couldn't risk hitting you, thus the leg shot. "

Starsky dropped to his knees next to Cassandra who was screaming now as the hole in her leg continued to pump out bright fresh lifeblood.

"It's not just a freakin' leg shot! You've hit her fuckin' artery. Wh…"

His hands were moving toward her leg, his body on automatic response to the physical crisis before him and his mind already trying to think what he could use as some form of tourniquet above the bullet entry site, when the second shot resounded.

A loud crack and thud heralded the blood splatter that found his face and chest, showering him with its obscene red curtain. The second bullet had smashed into her lower neck, tearing open another major vessel in its high velocity path. Cassandra's neck blew out blood like water from an unclogging tap, in spurts and dribbles. Her body now crumpled but still twitching was close enough for him to smell the gunpowder as it mingled with the metallic tang of fresh blood pooling on the floor around his own quaking body.

Starsky's reaching hands stopped midair, any actions he had planned now completely aborted.

It was over for her.

Sinking back onto the floor he watched in a trance-like state as the last moments of Cassandra's life passed in front of him. It didn't take long for her lifeblood to deplete to the level where her heart no longer contracted and her pulsing arteries pumped out the last of their reserve.

Starsky swiped at the spray of blood still damp and acrid on his cheeks.

"Aww shit! Why did you have to do that?"

"You'd prefer that I left her bleeding out from the femoral? Leg shots take longer to kill you than the carotid. You know that. Quicker, neater, kinder. "

"I'm not talking about the fuckin' neck shot and you know it! Why did you have to shoot her at all? Nothin' neat and nothin' kind about what you've just done here you butcher. Nothin' neat about cold blooded murder to a woman who had no idea it was comin'."

Calvetti merely shrugged and re-cocked his gun.

"Better that way. Better for her. She assumed I was going to wound you. She's had become a liability. She also proved to me that she couldn't keep her mouth shut. I don't need her beyond this point. Its time to streamline my practice and tighten the perimeters. You were correct David. I've been breached. Your partner has found his way to me. I can't risk weak links like Cassandra and – several others in my employ. Now no more time wasting David. See the mess you've caused me here? This will take hours to clean up and I've got far more pressing matters to deal with than mopping up Cassandra from the floor."

Starsky felt the irony hit home.

He'd wanted this hadn't he?

Time and chaos.

Those were what he was trying to buy. With the swilling blood all about him and the echoing blast of the gunshot still reverberating in his ears, he realized that he had well and truly succeeded in his goal.

"Get up off the floor and away from the blood David. I find the scene of you sitting there amongst such gore so distasteful. Move back here to the bed – now. "

"Why would I do anything you want me to do? I have no incentive to obey your fuckin' orders. Maybe you'll call another one of your staff in here to blow them away in front of me? Is that what you'll do now Calvetti? Kill off everyone in an attempt to shock me into co-operating with you?"

"I know what you're doing David. You think you can stir me up, shake me around enough to get sloppy and leave myself open to being taken in by the law? By your bad tempered and vengeful partner Hutchinson? No David. We'll be gone from here soon enough and there will be no way he will follow us to our next destination. "

He waved the gun with growing agitation.

"Now move!"

Starsky offered him a slight toss of the chin.

"Go fuck yourself."

He had expected it of course. Expected it and knew when it was about to befall him. Too many years in the game of mental standoffs with perps and corruption had tuned him into normal reaction patterns of disturbed human thinking.

Calvetti was fuelled to erupt.

He closed the distance between them quickly and with a wide back sweeping arc of his arm he brought the heavy butt of the hand gun down to crash into the side of Starsky's head and brow.

His whole body felt the blow and absorbed the lancing agony of the blunt force.

Light was replaced by the engulfing waves of black, which rolled him under, sucking him deep beneath the surface and mercifully away from the insurmountable pain that filled his skull.

Already down low to the ground he let his arms slip away as he succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness.

The last thing he registered as all thought left his mind, was the sea of Cassandra's bright red blood swirling around his sinking body.


	18. Chapter 18

Dear Readers,

My next chapter will be a little late but I have a good excuse! Tomorrow I am off to LA for SURCON 2013 ! I'm sure we'll all have a wonderful time catching up with fans, writers and artists - and that is not even to mention the stars of the show PMG and DS.

So I may be just a little too distracted to get another chapter out till I get back, but I am sure being around the boys (or at least the actors of the boys :) themselves, will give me all sorts of creative ideas.

If any of you are going to be there - can't wait to meet you!

XK

* * *

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 18**

"Oh come on for Fuck's Sake…. it's more than three hours since we lodged the request."

"Yes that's right and in the normal scheme of things that not a long time Hutchinson and you know it. It's also not even gone seven am and we've had to wake people up before dawn break to get the warrant application in play. We need Judge Baylor to sign off on this one as it's a big ask with only that film footage from an unknown source to go on and your intuition."

"Only! Only the film footage for … you saw it yourself two times Captain. He was fucking torturing Starsky and Starsky clearly identified him by name on several occasions. And my intuition? Jesus! The man was right in front of me basically throwing what he'd done to Starsky in my face – it was clearly him – the black eye from Starsk's knee, the innuendo – hell more than innuendo. The girl – that Cassandra bitch who knifed him. Hardly intuition Captain and it's all there in my statement – that damn statement which I had to waste nearly an hour preparing to present to the Judge. Jesus, all we've done is waste precious time. Time Starsky doesn't have."

"I know, I know Hutch…but just slow it down will you? Just try to calm it and use the time while we're waiting more productively. What have you got back so far on the runs of this Calvetti character? We need some more on the possible location he was holding Starsky. You're fairly sure he didn't have him inside his actual property."

"Well he sure as hell wasn't in the main house proper – I went through every room even the ones with keypad locks. I'm waiting on the report from R and I on the city plans for his home and land. Expecting it soon. But what is the point of the layout of his home, because even if he had Starsky down in a bunker or whatever, he'll almost certainly have moved him by the time we bust the joint."

"Well you should have damn well thought of that before you went riding in there with all guns blazing early this morning shouldn't you? Of all the stupid…."

But his tone softened as he finished the declaration. He knew exactly what Hutchinson would have been thinking and feeling. Feelings and gut responses won out as they always did when relationships got in the way of sound detective work and normal procedure. Never more so than it did with his two favorite team members – this duo seemed to lose all perspective and protocol when it came to trying to pull each other out of danger.

"You know I couldn't wait Cap'n…you just know I couldn't. When I saw that film – what he'd done to him - well I just lost it."

"I know Hutchinson – I know. And that's why working a case where your partner is the centre of the case just doesn't work."

"I just had to know for sure - had to see this animal's face and know this was a real lead I'd been given by the guy who brought the tape to Huggy's. It just didn't make sense that he would have handed Calvetti to me like that. I tell you Captain, I can't explain how it felt when he walked straight into the room and faced me. The same bastard that I'd just been watching torture Starsky on film. Christ! Then from there I just couldn't pull back - he's freaking lucky I didn't kill him there and then when I had the chance. "

"Then I think it's clear he didn't have any fears that you would uncover Starsky last night. Now that you've been there and established that he's not holding Starsky in the house anywhere it gives us more time to work out how he operates. That in turn gives us more to take to the Judge to get this paper trail moving faster. My bet is that Calvetti is a big player and it won't be easy to crash his domain without some serious data. A man like him doesn't get to a place in life like he has without putting a lot of people in high places in his pocket for rainy days. Let's just hope we can get the warrant within the next hour or so. "

The phone on Dobey's desk shrilled. Sweating profusely and it was not yet midmorning, the heavy set man swiped at his heavy jowls with a handkerchief already damp with sweat while he surveyed his wreck of a Detective across the desk.

Hutch fell back into the chair and dry rubbed his own face almost in unison with his Captain's agitated rubbing of his own.

Bottom line was Starsky was no longer missing but not really found. No longer missing per se, but so very far out of reach and in serious threat of further injury and possible death. In uncovering his partner's whereabouts Hutch had tipped from one end of the emotional spectrum to the next. His mood had ratcheted from the mind numbing grief that Starsky may be dead to the screamingly taut terror that for every hour he remained captive he would be subjected to horrific suffering and an inevitable horrible death. Dobey saw the cost of the tumultuous emotions in his Detective's body, face and functioning.

Hutchinson was beyond a mess and in reality as his Captain; he knew he should relieve him of his duties on the case of the search for his partner. He just didn't know how he could execute that power and even if he did how he would enforce it. Experience taught him that these two partners played by their own rules when the game was about them and each other's welfare. Short of throwing the stricken blond in a cell and throwing away the key, there was going to be no stopping his single minded pursuit of Starsky.

Dobey picked up the hand piece and barked down the line all the while watching Hutch's heavily drawn and fatigued face – worrying for the tenth time that morning how much longer this man could keep up this unforgiveable pace. No sleep, no rest and little food on top of a smothering load of fear and panic was more than any man could deal with for very long. But he knew it was pointless and a waste of his own breath to attempt to get his blond Detective to take some time to look after himself. There was simply too much at stake and too little time in which to do it.

Dobey grunted and listened to the voice on the other end and his eyes opened, afresh with surprise.

He replaced the phone and pushed his chair away with some renewed energy.

"Ok that stuff about Calvetti's property has just been pulled up. The guys are dropping some copies of the plans of the house up to us in a few minutes. It's a little clearer now why you couldn't find the room where he filmed that interview or had Starsky. Seems that our Mr. Calvetti owns one of those older mansions from the Hollywood golden days."

Hutch looked a little nonplussed.

"Yeah so? Swanky home with lots of rooms and big gardens and pool. There're enough of them around in the hills."

"No, not just a palatial Hollywood home. Calvetti has snapped himself up one of the mansions owned and built by one of the Hollywood Blacklist set from the McCarthy era."

Awareness flashed on Hutch's face and he too was pushing up and moving quickly to the outer office.

"Shit! Of course. No wonder I could sense Starsk was nearby by not in the home anywhere. A freakin' passageway or an underground tunnel? He's damn well got Starsk locked up in some secret room connected to the main house by a passageway. That's where his studio probably is too. No wonder the bastard was so cool about letting me through the gate – he knew there was no risk of me busting his set-up."

"It's probably also how he keeps the less commercially viable side of his small film production under wraps. Let's get these plans and assemble the team for a quick debrief before going in."

"Once where we know where that passage entry is I don't want to fuck around wasting time with strategy. Calvetti would have cleared the place entirely by then. He's hardly going to be waiting for us to drive up in our vans and shoot the doors down. He's no risk to us, just to Starsky."

"We're not busting into a situation where we don't know what's waiting for us Hutch. We've got no idea what sort of operation or manpower this creep has working for him and what extent he'll go to in order to keep us out. He also hasn't had a lot of time to back out the rear door before we arrive. Right now I would think this Calvetti is one very agitated man."

"Yeah one very agitated and dangerous sick fucker who has my partner while we're sitting cooling our heels waiting for a fuckin' piece of paper."

The outer doors opened and one of the officers from downstairs moved briskly over toward Dobey and Hutch, a small pile of files in his hands.

Dobey looked down at his watch.

"Come on Hutch let's see what we've got on this guy so far. If we haven't heard back on the warrant within that time, I'll get the Commissioner to push it through faster. We'll be in Calvetti's house by mid morning Hutch otherwise I'm just going to have to start knocking some heads together."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

"Be careful the way you lie him on the gurney, make sure he's secured firmly – I don't want to find I have to stop on the damn highway because you forgot to do up the restraints and his body is crashing around in the back of the van. And lay him a little on his side with a pillow in his back. Between the blow to the head and the sedation he could wake up puking and I don't want him choking on his own vomit."

"Don't know why you're going it alone Mr. Calvetti. We never do a transport like this. One of us is always in the back with the merchandise and always have him under cover of a gun."

"Not this time Reed. He's not going to be waking up anytime soon and I need you and Stolz back here to clean up the mess and get as much of the studio dismantled as possible. We've got little or no time. They could even be lining up outside now for all I know. And this delivery – its different to the others. I have more of a personal interest in this one and I want to do it myself."

He didn't tell his main guard that he wanted no third party knowledge of where he was taking David and where he was going after the delivery. Hutchinson was hot on his trail and it was time for him to go underground. The blond cop's bloodlust made him a moving target and so once he took care of the unconscious man who was currently being strapped in hard to the portable gurney, Calvetti knew the score. Disappear or perish.

"So how much time do you think we have Mr. Calvetti? It's gonna take a while to clean up this mess from …Cass – from ah the body and take care of dumping it. There's only Stolz and I on today for the heavy work. I can get the two girls to start moving stuff if you like. "

"Get Cassandra taken care of first – body out of the house, off the property. You know options for disposal; I'll leave that to you. And the gun. Get rid of it as well. The blood – get it cleaned up as much as possible – bleach it. Clear the studio of the films of a sensitive nature – you know the ones I have coded. Pack them up and take them somewhere safe until I contact you. Don't bother with the more mainstream films. And the two girls – both of them. Get them out of here and pay them enough with the cash reserves I have in the safe so that they have an incentive to keep their pretty little mouths shut. Tell them there'll be more if they stay low and quiet and that if they _don't, _that there'll be payments of a different kind. Make sure you make the point clear to them."

The big guard sidled a little closer to Calvetti, his voice cautious and low.

"Stolz. I'm worried about him Mr. Calvetti." He referred to the second main guard that Calvetti had in his employ and the one who was with Cassandra in the room before Starsky jumped her.

"What do you mean you're worried about him? Jesus I haven't got enough time to hear your worries about your work partner. What? Don't you think he'll pull his weight in getting this place cleaned up when I leave?"

The big man couldn't believe how insensitive – no – how damn blind his boss could be to what was right under his nose. So calm and ruthlessly matter of fact about slaying one of his main employees that he hadn't stop to consider its impact on the rest of them.

"No – well – hey it doesn't matter Mr. Calvetti. It doesn't matter. I'll work it out with him. He's just - he's just really cut up about what went down with Cassandra. Shocked and – but look he'll come good. He just didn't expect it I guess."

_None of us did. What does he think it means to us to see him gun down Cassandra like that? _

Calvetti sneered with frustration.

"You think Stolz is going to be an impediment Reed? Is that what you're getting at here? You think Stolz is going to go all pussy on me because he had a thing for Cassandra? Well I think you know what I expect you to do if that's the case don't you? Once you've dumped her body and the evidence then you still think that Stolz is a security risk you let me know Reed. You let me know. Because once I don't need him anymore, I might let you have a bonus paycheck by taking care of him like I took care of Cassandra. No security risks Reed. None. If I find out you've let him get out of control, I won't be very happy. I want to come back and salvage my life once I've shaken this blond detective off my back. I don't aim on coming back to my whole life in tatters because you let your buddy squeal and cry to the cops. You get me Stolz? You understanding me?"

"Yes sir Mr. Calvetti. I've got you. You can count on me you know that."

"Good. Now no more time can be wasted. Be available on the number I have for you at your apartment. I will make the first contact to you when I get finished with this delivery. I need you contactable to tie off the loose ends for me here. Get it done and get the hell out of here as fast as you can. It's nearly morning and I want you clear of here within two hours. Body first – that's your priority."

Ten minutes later the dark van with its human cargo locked in the back slipped out into the watery light of pre-dawn. The big man watched for a moment as the dark vehicle with tinted windows merged onto the slip road that ran down into a thick cover of trees and then out through a back gate leading onto the outside road. Reed rubbed his meaty hands across his rock hard stomach and turned back to his duties.

For three years he'd worked for Calvetti and he did feel a certain loyalty to the scarred up, often unpredictable man. He did what he was told and for the most part he toed the line with all that his twisted boss demanded of him. But now, the image of the bled out and crumpled body of Cassandra in the other room was still fresh in him mind and so too was reaction when his work partner Stolz first stumbled in to see her body. Crossing the room and he now caught sight of Stolz in the small side office. Now that Calvetti had departed he had fallen into a chair, immobilized and shaking– a look of complete shock and horror still imprinted on his fleshy face.

Reed was a good employee – reliable and trustworthy. But he was not like Calvetti. Taking sexual favors from tormented prisoners – favors thrown to him by Calvetti like scraps of meat from a dinner plate to a salivating dog was his weakness. God knows he would have loved a bit of the curly-haired cop's ass, but the game never went his way this time and Calvetti had been too possessive of this last prisoner. Most of the time though he was lucky enough to score with the men when his boss was through with them and before they were shipped on to auction. He fed his habit with the flesh that got peddled through Calvetti's little house of horrors. So yeah, Reed knew there was a sick streak that ran through his own veins just like it ran through his bosses. All of them were tainted with Calvetti's depravity and none moreso than the now very much dead Cassandra with all her willingness to hurt and wound the prisoners.

But did she deserve to die like that?

Reed knew that he himself was many undesirable things - but he was not a murderer.

Whatever happened with Stolz, Reed decided that his boss would not hear about it. There was no way he wanted the blood of his work mate on his hands.

"Come on Stolz. You've got to pull yourself together. You got to help me here. The cops, Christ probably damn swat teams and the lot will be here before we know it. If we don't get her out, it'll be you and me next that the boss will have his target on. "

"He fucking killed her for no reason Reed. Just shot her dead and she had no clue. I thought he was going to take the cop out or wound him – not her. Why her? He's crazy Reed – crazy loopo, mad. Evil – yeah that's what he is, he's evil."

"That's right. So let's haul ass and get sorted and the fuck out of here or we'll be next. Don't lose it on me Stolz. Don't lose it. I need you to keep your head for the next hour or more till we do this. You with me?"

"I can't do this crap anymore, don't want the stink of it on my hands anymore."

"Then stand up and help me and when we're finished you can go wash your hands and walk away. But we've got to get this done and finished now."

Stolz appeared to be garnering his spirit and pulling himself to his feet. But Reed wasn't fooled and he was close enough now to see the tracking tear stains on the face of the burly muscle-bound man. Somehow Reed doubted that Stolz was going to get over Cassandra's death that easily.

As he began gathering blankets to roll the body in, Reed remembered the phone call that Cassandra had told them about earlier. The one she had overheard Calvetti make when the curly-haired cop's partner had stormed out of the house.

Calvetti wanted Marty dead. Reed had got to know Marty and like him over the last months. He was a good enough guy but now he was a marked man.

Calvetti's little army was falling apart and it was the boss himself who was tearing it down.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"He's pretty messed up Calvetti. Cut up and bruised – looks like you've been running him hard. You know I don't like getting them all dirtied up like this. You yourself demand a clean slate and yet you come here offering me this bloodied up piece of meat. Jesus look at his head – you just smashed him with a gun butt didn't you? I can tell by the damage. Done it enough times myself when I need to."

He rolled the dark head beneath him to reveal the bleeding face and the darkening bruise where the gash from the gun butt was oozing profusely.

Calvetti ignored the query about the latest assault to his prisoner and looking down at the man himself now, he had to admit that the cop really was a mess. And yet, in his veins he could still feel the throb of pressure that wanted just a bit more from him – just one more taste of overpowering, controlling and hurting.

He had been forestalled back at his house by Cassandra being stupid enough to put herself in a precarious situation with this indomitable cop. His limited time left with David had been ruthlessly cut even shorter once the urgency arose to clear his property of her body. When he had finished with Hutchinson's intrusion into his home he had been so incensed he wanted to go directly to the source of the blond cop's anguished fear and vent his rage on the person whose pain would hurt Hutchinson the most. But his goal had been thwarted by the sheer determination of his prisoner. Starsky had managed to stand up against him once more. This man enraged and enthralled him all at the same time. And he wanted more of him.

Now as he stood with the softly moaning body of David Starsky between him and the man he was forced to hand his cop over to, it took all of Calvetti's strength to force down the desire to be alone with his prisoner just one more time.

"You have to understand that I never intended to move him on. He was mine, he was meant to be mine permanently. And I still want him, but – I'm just asking you to take him for a while. Put him with your stable. He'll heal up in no time - he's damn strong and resilient and has the most incredible stamina."

His eyes were shining with lust and pride as he looked down at the still drowsy and bleeding Starsky.

"So what's going on? Am I buying into a risky pile of shit here? Who is this guy? Why do you need to move him under so urgently? Level with me Calvetti. Level with me. I admit – yeah I like the look of him, but still…. It's not like you to turn over something quality unless you're really under fire. All of your other targets you've brought me have no ties or strings to the real world. Why is this one such a threat to you that you have to offload him fast?"

For the first time in his working relationship with Calvetti the short rotund man read fear and uncertainty in the erudite disfigured face. He watched Calvetti, as he seemed to weigh up the decision to reveal any more than was necessary but seeing that his colleague was dancing around about taking this particular target off him, he had to give him more.

"Ok Joey. Ok. Now think on this. You have never like the Boys in Blue very much have you? They've pushed you around a lot over the years, cramped your style, smothered your potential?"

"Well Christ man, that's an understatement. I've been inside the slammer more times than you've had caviar on your fucking toast you snobby bastard. You know that! So? So what're you trying to say? That the cops want this guy? That this guy here is a wanted man and so I should be so lucky to have him? Stuff up their game plan? What?"

And then the light went on for Joey and he stepped back from his close perusal of the dark haired man beneath him. He dropped his pudgy hands as though he had been burned and looked up with incredulity at the puckered scarred face of his colleague.

"You got yourself a cop here Calvetti? You telling me you've scored a cop?"

"He's a Detective with homicide metro, but that is beside the point. He came to me, sourced by a contact I use often and his background was secondary. I have to admit, that he was nothing like the rest. She chose him purely because he has the features I most look for in a subject. You could see that if he was more awake. But moreover it is his personality and strength that makes him a stand out from the others. He is a – a – pleasure to work with Joey. "

"You're freaking crazy Calvetti. You got a town with hundreds, if not thousands of blue eyed curly dark haired men you could pick off – none of whom would have a freaking cop badge in their pocket, and you chose him? And then what? What happened? Didn't cover your tracks well enough this time did you? So they're on to you? The band of brothers got you cornered Calvetti?"

"Quite simply Joey, there was a weak link in my chain of operation. I'm taking care of it. But in the meantime I had to get David out. I don't want him auctioned, I don't want him sold. I aim to get him back from you but need you to hide him for me. Just for a while. Just till I get…. Get the heat off me. I'll have to go under too. But when the trail is cool and it's safe, I'll come and take him. I'll pay you well for it Joey. You know I'm good for the money."

"Yeah I don't doubt the financial side of your dealing Calvetti, but I do doubt this whole set-up. You're going to dump this half dead cop on me, who is and you know it, good for nothing right now because he can barely breathe he's so weak – and you're going to go to ground and leave me holding the can? Shit and hell! I just climbed out of the fucking pen six months ago. Just getting my life back on track and my little business ticking over again. Now you want me to put my neck on the line for you? To take a homicide cop in and put him in my stable – no make that, a half dead homicide cop."

"Look at him Joey. Take the time to look at him. He's not some zoned out junkie, emaciated and brain dead. He's strong and fit. Smart and damn full of attitude. Women will go crazy over him, same with men. Got anything like him in your stable right now?"

"No because the ones I've got don't look like they've just been in the Calvetti torture chamber for the past how many days! You're one sick puppy man. Get a good specimen like this and you fuck him up proper. How the hell will I sell him to my clients when he's all scarred up like that? He won't have enough strength to live through a fuck let alone put out."

"Trust me Joey. They'll want him. In a few days he'll be stronger. He just hasn't been eating and barely drinking. But once you get him hydrated he'll bounce back. Now we agree on this?"

"You keeping this trail to me as cold as ice Calvetti? Because the last thing I need is the City Police Department smashing down my doors looking for their boy."

"I've told no one. None of my staff know where I brought him. Just me. I'm closing down my operation and my small studio indefinitely. Once my home gets released from seizure, I'll sell it and re-site my business. I just need to stay out of sight for a while. But know this Joey, I want him back. I want David back."

"Sure – by the time you come to get him he will be almost back to normal health and you can start all over from scratch. He'll get worked over here too but not with knives and whips – I know how to look after my stable."

"I want a little while with him before I leave, but he's still out to it. Let's go seal this arrangement with a drink and by then he'll be awake enough for me to say goodbye to him."

Joey sighed knowingly.

"What you mean is that you want one more chance to mess him up a bit more. I know you and your fetishes. I can see it in your one good non-fucked up eye you filthy bastard. You want to tear him up some more, get yourself off before you have to part with him."

Calvetti's normal half of a face was as hard and as implacable as his rigid immobile side. Joey caught the anger and the threat.

"He's still mine Joey. I own him and I'll pay you for the service you provide for me in keeping him under. But he's still mine. Remember that."

"And you remember this Calvetti. Once you leave here today, you don't get to touch him again until you pay me out to take him back. Understand? I need him cleaned up and functioning so don't think you can have visiting rights with your knife and whip. When we have that drink, that's the deal we'll be sealing."

Calvetti knew Joey. Short and round, leaning to the effeminate side and never one to hide his uneducated and criminal roots. But Calvetti knew the other parts of him too. Joey meant what he said and he rarely backed down. When he agreed to deal, his deal was ironclad. But if he felt compromised or cheated, he would quickly revoke any gentleman's agreement. And there was no way he could afford to have the agreement revoked.

This was the safest place for him to stash David.

He just wished he didn't have to stash him at all, to be used as some sex toy by Joey's steady stream of rich clients.

David was his now and it irked him deeply to have to take this course of action. But it was the only way to keep him hidden from his formidable partner. The only way to keep the formidable Hutchinson away from him.

He just hoped that Hutchinson would lose the trail completely.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"Captain Dobey! Call for you on your office line."

Dobey, Hutch and two other men from the squad room were going over the blue print plans of Calvetti's house and property. The plans revealed a hidden passageway off the small room under the stairwell in the large foyer.

Hutch shook with anger when he realized that he had been standing so close to the doorway that led to where Starsky was being held the whole time he stood and talked with Calvetti. The doorway led to a small side room where a steep set of steps went down to a passage way that ran beyond the perimeter of the house and gardens to a small set of rooms and what looked to be another garage. The passage way according to the plan was just over five hundred yards long and met up with the hidden rooms and an extra garage or shed that was above ground. The garage was right near the edge of the boundary of the property and probably looked like it was from the road – a spare garage or work shed. In its time it would have served as a point of quick departure to the outer gate on the far side of the large landscaped property.

Hutch and the men were discussing whether to go in from the rear of the hidden rooms or through the main part of the house when Dobey re-emerged and called out brusquely.

"Ok! We're on. The warrant is being delivered to the main desk in a few minutes. You men – get your partners and vest up. I've got a SWAT team ready to move – I know it may be overkill, but we just don't know what he has inside waiting for us – even though as you say Hutch, he may well have flown the coop. Hutch I want you partnered up with Tomkins – you're not going in alone. That gives us six plus the Team.

Dobey didn't look. He didn't want to see what he knew would be on Hutch's face. A look of measured and restrained hope. Very measured and oh so very restrained. For he knew that Hutch was expecting the inevitable conclusion to his earlier confrontation with the deranged Calvetti.

He believed that he could go in alone and raid the home single handedly – no need for other cops, let alone a SWAT team. Inevitably anti - climatic. Hutch had already determined that himself by his cavalier behaviour the night before. His rude arrival at Calvetti's had effectively severed any hope that he would have a single clear shot of riding in all guns blazing, and seizing his partner. When they did arrive with backup Hutch knew that Starsky would not be there. Perhaps if he had managed to wait, to restrain himself last night Starsky might still be there, waiting and hoping, bound or gagged, wounded and hurting, frightened and alone…but at least there.

But not now. He would not be there anymore. Nor would Calvetti the one man Hutch so desperately wanted to confront, so wanted to corner, so needed to hurt - just as he had hurt Starsky.

Hutch nodded his assent at his Captain and made the moves to get ready, to vest up, to pulse up for the siege.

But as grateful as he was for the warrant having come in, Hutch knew that it would all be too little too late.

"Ok then let's move it. We should be outside of Calvetti's main gate by 8.30, 8.45 at the latest. Let's hit this! I want my partner back by midday."

But even before his had articulated the words, he knew it was all false bravado.

Midday would arrive and Starsky would still be somewhere else.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

An hour later one of Joey's men buzzed him on his internal line.

He and Calvetti had put away several stiff drinks and caught up on the business side of Joey's venture. He was by all accounts doing very nicely out of absorbing kidnapped social dropouts and grooming them up for his stable. Sex slavery was lucrative, not just out of the state but even in parts of LA itself. Joey had worked the circuit for enough years to know the trade and milk it.

The two men had arrived at a financial agreement on what it was worth to Joey to take on the headache of hiding a wounded hot cop with the force out on his tail.

Joey picked up the line and nodded.

He turned to the disfigured man across from him who barely showed the effects of more than three doubles of his finest scotch. Joey thought he had to give it to the freak. He really was one of a kind.

"There's the call you've been waiting for Calvetti. Your boy is coming to and making a noise. There's no sense in me getting any of my staff to look at his overall condition until you've finished with him is there?"

Calvetti didn't flinch at the implication, and offered no denial of Joey's statement.

"I told you I wanted to say goodbye. God knows how long it will take to get his partner off my tail and to have the opportunity to come and take him from you."

"So your cop in there has a partner? A partner who's looking for him? Is this something I need to be concerned about Calvetti?"

"His name is Hutchinson. Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson - do some background on him if you want to keep his progress or lack of monitored. I expect him to crash my house anytime very soon and he'll no doubt have a team with him that will open up the passage and the studio. But it will lead no where because I have covered my bases and have brought David to you. I don't imagine Hutchinson will be bothering you Joey."

"You really have handed me a number this time Calvetti. A half dead cop with a vengeful partner in attack mode. You like to play dangerously don't you? So many easier targets to be had out there in this big filthy city of crime and deceit. Well I'm telling you Calvetti, I won't be too damn happy if this partner of your man in there comes sniffing around my stable. You make damn sure you've covered your steps."

"Hutchinson is my concern and my moving David here will stop him in his tracks. He put me through hell last night and made me lose my grip for just a little while. I need to get it back, need to feel back in total control again."

"Oh yeah...I know what that means for you Calvetti. Means more suffering is in store for your broken man in there. Can't you just forget about retribution and all that shit? I don't think your "David" as you call him can take too much more."

"My call while I still own him - until I hand him completely over to you."

Joey gave up. After all, there were plenty of targets, takes, prisoners, subjects - all the nomenclature that blurred the reality of what he and his colleagues were really about. Breaking humans down on every level; emotional, physical, psychological and sexual.

Shit he was at the end of the day no better than this half monster Calvetti.

"He's in the room where we left him. I'll give you no more than half an hour with him. Then I want you gone and not to show your face again here until you bring the second half of the payment. I'll expect you to have the first half of the settlement brought here tomorrow at eleven. Leave it with one of my men who I'll have on the front entrance."

"Fair enough."

"I'll leave you to your addictions then. Try to leave him in one piece for me Calvetti. I don't run a fucking emergency wing here and if you leave him gutted so bad that I need to get him looked at professionally, I may just lose all interest in the deal and finish him off my self."

Joey stood to leave and indicated the door and the way back to where Starsky had been left for Calvetti.

"You kill him Joey and we are in a different sphere altogether you and I."

"Then leave him whole enough that I don't need to do a mercy killing."

And with that Joey walked back down the corridor.

Calvetti made his way back to the room where the gurney carrying Starsky had been left when he'd first arrived.

One of Joey's sidekicks stood outside the door.

"He's come to – in a bad way, but awake. Joey said you wanted him left."

"Thank you. You can go now and I'll let myself out. I'll need some time here so don't come back for thirty minutes."

The man just shrugged and walked off, nonchalant and semi bored. He'd seen it all so this scarred up freak didn't surprise him.

Calvetti paused for a moment, savoring the anticipation.

He pushed the door to the room open and walked in.

One foot in the door and he could feel the pain and the confusion emanating in waves from the man on the gurney.

"Hello David. I'm glad you're awake. I've come to say goodbye."

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	19. Chapter 19

Dear Readers of the this story and the Fandom,

Sorry but I had to insert this memo to you in this fashion as there is no other way of communicating with readers en masse except to upload as a chapter.

I know...I know…no updated chapters for a while. I have just been so busy with Surcon 2013 that I have not been able to get my head in a space to write...for me the trip was an international one also so I have had to adjust to be back in my time zone and real life after such a whirlwind few days. But - I had the absolute BEST time. Don't worry I will finish this story, its all plotted out and in my head, just need to grab some of that essential element called "time."

The opportunity to meet the boys and so many of S and H talented writers and wonderful fans was a once in a lifetime experience.

In particular the very special bond and close relationship of David and Paul was pure magic to watch. I wish I could share every minute of it but if I did that I would not be getting on with this story.

Please be patient...the story will continue soon, you have my word.

XKerry


	20. Chapter 20

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 20**

* * *

By 8.50 am the SWAT team had pulled back. They had swept the home and property of Calvetti and opened up the hidden passageway that led down and along a corridor ending in a bank of hidden rooms and two small studios. As Hutch had anticipated the house was devoid of life in particular the very life that the blond Detective had hoped beyond hope was still there. Having ascertained no immediate danger or hidden threat, Dobey's men were each taking rooms and investigating the site more closely. Hutch allowed himself a moment to sag against a doorjamb opening up into a sound proofed room where a narrow hard cot lay pushed against the wall, cameras high on the walls the only other furnishing evident in the sparse interior. The raging of mixed reactions was once again rocking through his body.

Immense grief filled his chest. Grief and despair and desolation that his partner was not anywhere in this hellhole – still so very far from him, hurting and in pain. But adrenalin leached out of his him too leaving him boneless, tremulous and utterly relieved. Until then he had refused to allow himself to look to closely at the spectre of what he might have found waiting for him in one of these rooms. Starsky dead and cold. Starsky dead and alone. Starsky mutilated and destroyed. If he had allowed himself even a glimpse of this searing terror, this choking black menace, he was not sure he could have held himself together enough to bust in with the rest of the team and storm the house.

Now the terror receded but the gut wrenching despair remained. Physically palpable, it rose up from his chest constricting his lungs and his throat, crushing like a vice and leaving him gasping in short breaths.

Either way he felt like he had lost. Starsky was not dead but he was still not with him and the quest had just gotten more desperate and more frightening.

Moments ago he had splintered off from the small team of officers from his own precinct, stalking away from the partner who Dobey had temporarily assigned to him**. **He needed a few moments to take stock of himself and Tomkins the other cop, who had covered him on the entry, had known enough to let him go. The rest of the team knew enough to let him go. His anguish was sharp and cutting and no one every one of the other cops knew there was nothing to be said or done to make the tall blond's plight any easier.

The room before him seemed to hold no evidence of recent occupation. It couldn't have been where Starsky had been held. A shout from down the hall had him turning quickly and moving toward it.

Tomkins had come out of another room similar in size and sparseness to the one Hutch had just seen, and was waving his colleague in to join him.

"Ken! In here."

Hutch strode briskly to the doorway. The rooms had all been checked quickly when they had moved in on the house but had only been swept briefly in search of life. Tomkins had moved back into the room and was kneeling in the corner, intent on examining the concrete floor.

In two strides Hutch was beside him and instantly saw what held the other man's concentration. A large sweep of deep red which had recently been scrubbed, the scratch marks evident and the fumes of bleach distinctive. None of the attempts to eradicate the incriminating stain had been successful, the porous concrete had held tight to the seeping effluent. Blood and lots of it.

Tomkins was ready for him when he swayed beside him.

"Hey…hey. Ken? You ok?"

He supported the crouched blond until he managed to fall on his butt and push against the wall for support.

"Stay down for a second will you? Just stay there. You're as white as a sheet. Take a breath – just breathe. Step back a bit here Ken. We don't know that this is Starsky's blood. There is nothing to say it is. No other sign anywhere here."

"Fresh? It's fresh. The floor is still damp to touch. They tried to clean it up before we crashed the place. Before they moved –"

He couldn't make his mouth formed the name.

"That's all supposition. Let's get the forensic boys in here and get some samples. No sense in jumping to conclusions Ken. Put it aside for now."

But Tomkins winced at his own words and his own patronizing attitude. Of course it was natural to assume that this blood was Starsky's, of course it was natural for his partner to be sitting there as shocked and as white as though his own body was the vessel from which the blood had been drained. It was a damning sight and a damning conclusion.

Both of them seasoned cops, both of them realistic. No one could have survived this level of blood loss, or if they had, there was no way they would survive for very long.

Hutch willed himself to breath in a coordinated fashion so that he could get enough oxygen to his brain to think.

"Makes no sense Tomkins. Makes no sense. Why do this to him and then take him with him? This would have been a mortal injury – why take him? Why not leave him here for me to find? Taking him severely injured or…or…dead – just creates so many problems for him."

"Maybe he thought that to stash the body would give him space ad time to go to ground. Without a body…"

Tomkins was loath to venture down that path of thinking but it had to be said, and it had to be considered. He wanted to spare the devastated man whose face was still chalk white but in reality the evidence of his partner's demise was all around them, hideously bright and garishly cruel.

Dobey rounded the doorway of the room and took in the sight of his two men in the corner, his eyes quickly assessing the face of the one who was still staring at the extensive stain on the floor.

_Oh God no. _The words were in his head only – a silent prayer.

For the stricken detective he used a more constrained approach.

"Hutch?"

But Tomkins answered for him.

"We'll need forensics in here sir. There may be some untainted samples on the edges of the spill. It was obviously a rushed job. I'll go and alert them now."

Tomkins moved past the big black Captain and out of the room, knowing that it was prudent to give his senior some time with Hutchinson.

"It doesn't mean it's his Hutch. This whacko may have had other inmates in this sick jail of his. This blood could from any one of his other victims. We're finding a whole studio filled with tapes and reels of films and footage. He used this underground cell as some sort of production house and enclosure for his victims. Who knows who else he might have cleared out of here this morning when he knew we going to bust him? Have you found any evidence at all from Starsky?"

"Not so far. But this room…. " Hutch looked at the small bed, spare of blankets or coverings and then up at the cameras looking down on them now as they both filled the room with their heavy hearted presence. "It feels like ….just something…you know how it is?"

Dobey did know. He knew how it was for the two of them. For the partners who operated on their own level of unique perception and communication, on a channel, a frequency that no one else could ever hope to tune into. He knew that if Hutchinson could sense Starsky's presence than Starsky would have been in this room – then – then…

The stench of bleach mixed with fresh blood filled his nostrils and the implication of Hutchinson's words filled him with a sinking dread.

Worst of all is that it would take the forensic team a while to get back to them with any definitive answers on the blood samples. Assuming of course that they could lift a viable sample from the floor swimming in stringent bleach.

"Come on Hutch. Let's get out of here. Let the boys come in and do their job and we'll finish going through the rest of the house. There's a garage section out back and a small office."

Hutch tried to stand on shaking legs. Dobey was right. He had to act like a cop and keep moving forward. And now it was even more important that he find any possible leads that would bring him closer to Calvetti. Either way he still had Starsky. Dead or barely alive – his partner was still with Calvetti and Calvetti could not have him. Whatever happened, whatever lay ahead, Calvetti could not have him.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Calvetti stood and drank in the sight of the broken man he so achingly coveted. Only for a few days had he known this man, only days, but already it felt as though he could not get enough of him, control him enough, hurt him enough, want him enough. David had begun to consume him. The intoxication of this man's inner strength and his unbreakable spirit was powerfully tantalizing to Calvetti. The more he tasted the fruits of his struggle with this cop, the more his hunger increased.

Now so soon it was all to be taken away from him. The long slow enticing feast was ripped away from him and the opportunity to savor domination over this man had been cruelly and prematurely ended. The final mounting climax of a superb novel was denied its completion and now he felt bereft that he would never get the opportunity to read the final thrilling lines.

Hutchinson had stormed his sanctuary and was now almost undoubtedly closing in on his private utopia. Calvetti accepted that he was facing the loss of his small business empire and underground playhouse. The cops would most likely be ripping his lucrative business apart at this very moment. But he could always rebuild and re-align. He had managed to do so in the past and he would find the strength and the resources to do so again. Re-invention was an art he had developed over the years. But to lose this precious possession cut too deep. David was special to him. Very special.

Ensuring the door was closed securely behind him Calvetti moved into the room and came to stand over the listless and bloodied form of his captive. The dull eyes were glazed with pain; heavy and hooded they stared up at him with relentless contempt. Calvetti saw the depth of David's suffering reflected in the inky darkness of the blue eyes.

"Such perfect blue eyes David. Such a perfect blue. I don't think I told you yet did I? Our time was cut so short, so suddenly short…and there are so many things I wanted to say to you that I wouldn't have the time to say now. But your eyes. You see you have to understand that for me the eyes are so very crucial. I wish I could look down at you now with both of my eyes intact as they once were. As blue and as perfect as yours are now. But no longer. All gone, all destroyed. Nothing perfect left, nothing whole or complete. Taken from me David. It was all taken from me. But you – you have come to me and you have brought the symbolism of perfection and wholeness back to me. Can you understand that David?"

Struggling to find the strength to move Starsky groaned as he shifted on the gurney. The most recent head wound had pushed him further down into almost complete physical dysfunction. His parlor was beyond ashen, his face a study in agony and his bruised and bleeding body folded in on itself. Only the last embers of his hatred of Calvetti and what he had done to him kept him conscious and fighting. But he knew his body was spiraling away from him – very soon he sensed there was a place he was going to let himself sink into that would give him peace and blissful oblivion. He was losing the battle to hold on, losing the battle to stay in the now and hope beyond hope that Hutch would find him.

Through split and bleeding lips he croaked out the words. His speech was disjointed and his words frayed with pain but in breathy gasps he managed them.

"Yeah… unnnerstan' you alright Calvetti. Unnderstan' ya' wanna destroy me cos…. I'm whole and complete? Punish and break me cos I am somethin' you can't be anymore. You're a freak. A disturbed and sick freak. That's what I understand. You want me to pay for whatever happened to ya' face? Will it bring it back to you? Will killin' me by degrees bring your face and your life back to ya?"

"I don't expect you to appreciate the complexity of my needs or my motives David. But I am just trying to share with you the depth of my feelings and what you invoke in me."

Starsky managed a half strangled laugh, choked with pain and disgust. He coughed and gagged, biting down on the sharp lancing pain shooting through his head.

"What I invoke in you? You mean the depraved pleasure in torturin' another human being? "

"Oh but David it is so very much more than torture or depravity. I am pitting my mental strength against yours. We are like two gladiators who must fight a contest of wills to determine supremacy. But only one of us can survive David. That's how the game prevails. Only one winner, one soldier who can walk away the victor. You fight so hard. You're strength and resilience both excites and enrages me David. It was my job – my highly regarded skills that always won the battle of wills with other soldiers like you. I could break so many of them down – so quickly. The game was over all too soon. But not with you David. You are my worthy opponent. You alone have given me the quest to once again after all of these years, extend my talent, re- affirm my professional abilities. I am breaking you David – but it is a slow process. I am so close, so very close to completion to finally bringing you to total subjection. Just a few more steps and I would have had you."

"This ain't no war here Calvetti. We ain't in Vietnam no more or wherever you think you are in your fuckin' sick mind. This is America and I'm a cop and you ain't nothin' but a left over piece of fucked up shit from a war or a time that is finished. This is a game to you Calvetti, but it is a game that will see you in jail for the rest of your life. Let me go, stop this now. Ya' need help – Christ ya' need a bullet. Last chance to stop this now. I'm gonna die if you keep me here like this Calvetti. Die - not just be a project ya' need to complete."

"Your breath is wasting David and the little strength you have remaining is seeping out of you. I have to leave you now, very soon I have to walk away and leave you here. But I will be back to claim you David. You're mine and I want to finish what I started with you. "

"Leave? Go? Whasss happened Calvetti? Ya runnin' scared now? He's found ya' hasn't he? My partner has found ya? That's why ya' panicking and shifted me from ya' place? Panicked Calvetti. Losin' your control. Ya…..killed Cass…andra…fallin' apart Calvetti."

"Only because that weak and spineless Marty lost his nerve. He went to the cops – pathetic coward."

Calvetti could see the taut and pinched face of the other man register a hint of surprise as he digested the news.

"Well shit, good for him – good that he could pull himself out of the stinkin' hell of the life he had gotten into…. "

"Not for long. He should be dead by now. He paid the price for deceiving me. But your partner can't find you now David. I've brought you here – you'll be hidden well until it is safe for me to come back and get you. Unfortunately for me I will have to accept that I will need to share you with others for a while – share you with the man who owns this operation here. He has other ways he wants to use you. He thinks you will be a profitable commodity for him. Your body David will be used in so many ways over the next weeks or months. That saddens me…because you are mine. Unfortunately I have little or no choice. Joey doesn't use his mind to hone his possessions – not like me David. But he will use you in ways that you will no longer know where your body begins and ends. He is not a sculptor of human spirit like I am – just a man who profits from making others use their body for his financial gain. In short David, once he has you sufficiently physically repaired he will ensure that everyday your brains will be fucked out – inside and out – you will be fucked over by anyone who has the cash to pay for you and to use you. "

He had moved closer to Starsky as he conveyed the grisly facts and took the time to watch the other man's reaction to the news.

But Starsky if he was surprised, shocked or even frightened paid little in the way of reaction to the revelations that he was soon to be some sort of sex slave in the purest, harshest sense.

"My partner will find me. He's gettin' closer…he's got you runnin' shit scared with your tail between ya' legs. Ya' finished Calvetti and worse than finished, I can smell your fear. Smell it like piss and shit in your pants. You stink …. You stink of fear. "

Anger, hot and bright enveloped Calvetti's body language and stance.

"Tell yourself that David. Tell yourself. But it is a dead end for Hutchinson now. Sure he'll find some evidence back at my house. But he won't find you and any evidence they lift from the house is not going to lead him to you. So no…you cannot smell fear on me David, but victory and strength. Your partner is the one who reeks of fear and desperation. You should have seen him David, should have watched his private agony and hopelessness. Hopeless and helpless – that's what he is now. Your precious partner is of no use to you."

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up about him! There's nothin' hopeless 'bout Hutch. Even if I die here he'll find you Calvetti. He'll find you …. put you away forever….maybe put that bullet ya' need through you. But he'll win in the end Calvetti – even…even if I don't make it. "

"Even as you say that I can see in your eyes, in your expressive blue eyes David, that you've given up hope that he'll get to you on time. He was so very close to you only hours ago. Did you know that David? He was literally in the same house, as you and still he couldn't get to you. Now it's too late for him to ever get to you. You know now that he won't find you. You really don't believe that anymore do you? He'll never trace you to here. Do you know how many men have been swallowed up by places like this David? Taken off the streets never to be found again. A new life here with others who have been snatched away from their lives. This is your new life for now too. Until I come back for you."

"There'll be some way …."

"No, you know that's not likely. And he'll know it too – Hutchinson will know it too when he finds you gone from my home. He'll come there- probably there right now as we speak…and there is nothing to lead him to the next step."

"He won't give up. Hutch'll never give up. We don't give up on each other."

"I agree with you David. Don't forget I met with him and witnessed for myself his grim determination to save you. But in the end he'll have to stop looking. And you? Look at you? You're the one close to giving up and you can't really wait much longer can you? Now that you know what Joey has in store for you, I can read the resignation in you."

As Calvetti drove his cruel taunts home he watched with surprise as the wounded man struggled to pull himself up to a sitting position. Groaning and hissing he inched himself upright until he was sitting facing his nemesis. Dark and intense and filled with hatred two vivid blue eyes shone bright and cold in his bruised and swollen face.

"No you're wrong I won't give up either. I'll hold on – I'm still fuckin' here ain't I you bastard? I'm still here."

"Yes I suppose you are David. Your strength is admirable. But if you had learned to obey me as I had asked you wouldn't be in the state you're in now. Look what you made me do to you? Such a mess – such damage to your body and all because you refused to yield to my demands."

As he spoke Calvetti had moved closer to Starsky and the two of them faced each other off, neither prepared to back away from the other's implied threat.

"What good would any of it do Calvetti? You wanna hurt and punish – even if I kissed your ass you'd still get your rocks off by causing me more pain. You're one fucked up madman and I sure ain't gonna make it easy for you to get your joy out of hurtin' me."

"Oh David even when you can barely sit up without falling over you're full of bravado and spite. If I only had more time I could have brought you to your knees. I'd have had you begging me for mercy and release."

"Well I'm not givin' it to ya' Calvetti. I'm not one of your projects or subjects from the war or wherever it was that you got your sick fetish for torture. Fuck off out of here now. I can't stand lookin' at your stinkin' fucked up face for one more second. How did it happen Calvetti? Did ya' get your face fucked over when you pushed someone too far?"

"Perhaps when we have more time together again David I will share the story with you."

"Yeah? And if we had more time together and I get some strength back, I'd like to take out the other half of ya' face. Ya' know that? When you left me in that room all those hours, I dreamed of pulverizing the other side of your face – Christ I'd love to do it to you. Ya' deserve it ya' freak from hell. "

In a blinding flash of movement, Calvetti's hand reached out and grabbed Starsky's hair, jerking his head back savagely as he brought his scarred face down within inches of the two vivid blue eyes.

"You want me to hurt you more? Do you know how I am burning up inside right now with the yearning to cause you some more pain?"

Starsky tensed and spat hard into the hovering face, his spittle wet and thick on the ravaged features.

"I told ya' ….get the fuck outta my face Calvetti."

But his final show of strength had already begun to cost him dearly and with the last belligerent cry he could feel himself closing down again. In fact had Calvetti not been holding him up by the hair he doubted whether he could continue to keep his head from lolling. Greying vision and muted hearing heralded in a slow descent back into unconsciousness. Which he supposed was good because he was already fading when the anticipated and violent retaliation came.

In a frozen moment he kept his mind alert enough to watch Calvetti swipe away the wetness from his cheek and eye and then in slow motion sequencing saw his arm arc up high above his head. With almost morbid fascination he intellectualized about what the raised hand might be going to do.

_Would he feel the blow? The pain? Could he still perceive pain? _

The arm and fist made contact and he heard the sound of flesh and bone on flesh and bone.

_Did he feel the blow? _

Yes – there it was. Crashing, electric and jarring. His shattered temple already pulsing with tearing pain from the gun butt blow, now felt as though it must be surely breaking right open. He wondered if his head was cracked wide open and his brains spilling out – the excruciation was so great.

_Still here – he was still aware._ _No escaping this monster and his fists._ _No escaping this relentless hell._

The first blow became several – all about his head and face – opening up his other eye, cracking open his lips, grazing his cheekbones, splitting flesh.

Starsky heard himself screaming in pain – but maybe it was not him – he could no longer be sure. He couldn't even find the energy to cry out let alone scream.

_So no it was not him. It was the other one – the one who was hurting him._

Calvetti was screaming - madness and ecstasy rolling together so that he sounded like he had fully unleashed the demonic psychosis hiding just beneath the thin veneer of his urbane exterior. In Calvetti's pursuit to control the man beneath him he had finally lost his own tight control on himself. Madness bubbled and spat from his mouth matching verbal violence with heavy fisted blows.

Starsky had been wrenched from the gurney, limp bodied and lax, dragged and pushed to the floor. There Calvetti had straddled him and began his assault on his body. Wounds still fresh and oozing were broken open again and backhanded blows landed strategically on these sites, inflicting maximum pain.

_Still awake._

He was still awake. He willed himself to black out but his own stubbornness and pig headed attitude now became his downfall. He was his own worst enemy. Indominable true grit was leaving him exposed and vulnerable to the horror of the most violent attack his body had ever experienced.

In a trance, trapped inside this horror show of agony he saw Calvetti's one normal wild blue eye – alive with crazed passion and fervent excitement. Each blow seemed to raise his level of frenzied madness. He heard his name uttered repeatedly – the demon above him grunting it out as his breath hitched with the effort of his exertions.

The tiny part of him that was still in this room and still in this terrifying reality wanted to push the madman from him. He wanted to buck him off his torso where he sat across his hips pressing down and grinding his pelvis almost erotically against his own.

He was still aware enough to recognize when the style of the beating began to change. The assault modulated from a physical attack to become something different altogether. Gradually the blows changed from ferocious and forceful, to explorative, sensual and invasive. Hands and fists that had smashed down with force became hands and fingers that squeezed and probed with degrading intensity.

Calvetti's ragged breathing gradually slowed as his violence subsided into something more aligned with lust and physical intrigue. Still astride the battered man who now clung to consciousness with only the faintest glimmer, Calvetti began to trace each wound both the older ones and the fresh ones his fists had just produced, with almost loving fascination. Starsky's blood coated his hands and arms as he trailed his fingers across flesh and sinew, muscle and hair. The body beneath him was handled now with almost loving intent and slow sexual savoring. Once more he pulled the lolling head toward him to force the eyes brimming with poignant pain, to meet his own.

" You see David. In the end I do have total control over you and you have no option but to bow down to me. I could kill you right now – with just a movement of my hand here – feel it – feel it touch your neck so lightly? But just a small move and I could take your last breath from your body. I _do_ control you. No matter how strong you think you are, no matter how much you think you can resist me and lock me out – I can break you down. I can break you to pieces. I have been trained to do that you know David. To break men down into small pieces so there is nothing left of what they were. You have proved to be my most worthy conquest. When I walk out of this door I will leave you as I choose to leave you. I have left enough of you for me to enjoy later on when I come back to claim you from this place. I can't have you with me now. I need to leave you here so that your partner cannot find you. Joey will have you now but after what I have done to you it will be a long long time before he can use you or your body. Can you hear me David? Are you able to understand me? Look at me!"

But there was nothing. The man beneath him was beaten down too far to create speech, to utter a word beyond a muffled groan and small whimpers of exquisite pain.

"Too far – I can see that I may have gone too far with you this time. But the need was just too great David. You can't talk to me but I believe you can understand what I'm saying. I can see it in your eyes. Your beautiful perfect blue eyes David. I was perfect like you once too. Do you know that? I'm sure you do. Before all of my perfection was taken from me. I was punished David. Punished for doing what I did so well and when I wasn't perfect anymore they never let me do it again. I lost my perfection, my life, my career. But you – you get to walk around in life with it all. And that David – that makes me need to take it from you. Bit by bit – slowly and painfully. Mine was wrenched away suddenly, but yours, yours I am taking from you in measured amounts – in agonizing small cuts."

Calvetti sat back and studied the face and body he held almost reverently in his grasp.

"If only you could see yourself David. You're not perfect anymore are you? You're broken and bruised and torn up – just like I am –"

The door smashed open in mid sentence.

Calvetti froze but did not turn. He kept his hands in place and his eyes on the man beneath him. He had after all expected this rude intrusion. He had outstayed his welcome and not kept his side of the bargain.

"Enough Calvetti! You crazy motherfucker! I warned you not to take this too far and look what you've done. Get off of him now."

Calvetti leaned in one more time and whispered into Starsky's bleeding ear.

"Wait for me David. I will be back to get you when this is all over. You'll be with me again soon enough."

"CALVETTI! I SAID ENOUGH! Move now or I'll have you moved."

"I was just leaving Joey. Just saying my last goodbyes."

"You really are too much you know Calvetti. I got a call from my men to say that they could hear you beating up on him from rooms away. Jesus Christ looks at him. He's probably gonna die for all I know. How much damage did you do to his insides I don't even know. You ask a lot – a hell of a lot. Now you walk out of here and leave me with this heap on the floor. A dead cop! Maybe I should revoke this whole deal with you. You've pushed this whole thing way too far."

"He's not going to die Joey. I know David. He's strong. He'll survive. I know that because I want him back with me as soon as I believe it is safe to do so."

"You don't know anything for sure Calvetti. By the looks of him I would say he's right on the line for survival and death. What the fuck do you imagine I'm gonna do with someone this fucked around? If he dies, I'll be dropping his corpse on your doorstep. I don't want this responsibility. I'm going to have to just leave him in a room and damn well hope for the best. Can't afford to risk trying to get medical help for him. Too easy for a leak to outside."

"I agree. Bring in anyone now to patch him up and you'll leave yourself wide open."

"You've really pissed me off Calvetti. Really. He dies – the price of the transaction doubles."

"I've told you more than once. He won't die. Leave him and see. I pulled back enough. Give me some credit here. This was my job for years. Remember too though Joey – no deal at all unless you keep him on ice until I can get him again. You try to kill him yourself, our entire business relationship will suffer. So we both want the same thing don't we? We want him alive."

"Then why the fuck couldn't you have just left him alone? Bad enough as he already was you had to take him for another few rounds. You did this so that he is of no value to me didn't you? I'd have to find a client who gets his thrills out of fucking dead people if I wanted to use him now."

Joey scowled and toed the now unconscious Starsky.

"What a God damn mess! You've even dirtied up my clean floor – look at this blood, it's freaking everywhere.

I want you out of here now. You won't get anywhere near him again until this is all over and you can take him back for good."

"You have my word as long as I have yours Joey. I'll leave now as you ask. I've done what I wanted to with him."

And as he stood and walked away toward the door he refused to allow himself to look back even for a fleeting last glance. His exit to the door and departure from the room was now a viable set of actions for him. The earlier hunger to fulfill his seemingly insatiable bloodlust for the man left behind on the floor had been satiated.

He just hoped it would keep him fulfilled enough in the intervening weeks before the tall blond Detective would be out of his life and he could safely bring David back into his life.

Joey waited until the disfigured man was out of the room before he turned to his two assistants.

"Get him up off the floor and moved into one of the secure rooms downstairs. Try to get some fluid into him in the next few hours if you can rouse him, but don't do anything else. If he lives he lives."

He followed in the wake of Calvetti's departure. It was his aim to ensure that this crazy man got the hell off his property and completely away from the smashed up cop whose blood was spilling out all over his floor.

He only wished now that he had demanded more money for agreeing to this whole sordid and highly dangerous arrangement.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

An hour after the bust had gone down on Calvetti's home and hidden underground property, the cops were finally pulling out and collating the seized evidence. The Forensic team had been and examined and sampled the large blood stain in one of the small rooms that looked more like prison cells with multiple cameras.

They had agreed that the blood stain was fresh and could only try to offer some level of reassurance to Hutch that they would have the samples tested with results at hand as soon as it could be achieved.

They offered their promise of rushing the tests through the labs as fast as was realistically possible but could see how futile and insufficient such words were to someone who was desperate to the point of physical pain for some answers. For answers that only told him what he wanted to hear. That the blood would not be a match for Starsky's.

But of course everyone in on the bust secretly thought that there was little to no hope of that being the case.

And of course that made sense. It made sense to Tomkins who had found the stain, made sense to Dobey, made sense to all of the officers who streamed in to view the nightmarish sight for themselves, made sense to the Forensic team.

Most of all it made sense to the tall blond who had visibly degenerated since the bloodstain had been found.

Hutch was dying inside.

No one had the words for him.

The anti climax of the bust left everyone feeling like there was no next logical step to take in the now dead-end investigation.

Much of what had been seized in the bust was being packed up and transported back to the precinct in the hope that there would be some sort of lead to be gleaned.

Dobey looked at the deadened face and limp body of Hutchinson.

What to do with him? What to offer him?

He approached him now as he sat staring at the interior of the studio which was recognizable by its props and setting as the room in which the horrific interrogation of Starsky had taken place and been forever captured on film.

"Do you want longer here Hutch? Or do you want to head back with me to the station. I'm leaving the Forensic team here for as long as they need to go over these rooms. We can go back and start going over what we've got to see if it opens up some trails for us."

Hutch was dull eyed and vague when he looked briefly at his captain before resuming his haunted eye appraisal of the studio.

"This is where he was Captain. Right here in this spot near this wall. There's the stool, there's the table where that bitch had the knife …this is where Starsky was tortured. Tortured and filmed. Tortured again. Too much for him Captain. Too much after what he went through with Marcus. Why? Why? Why hurt Starsky? Why can't I stop this? I stopped Marcus' people from hurting him – stopped them in the end anyway. Got there on time. And now this. Starsky's hurting again and this time I can't stop it and I can't find him. I can't save him now. …I can't…."

"Hutch. Hutch – there is nothing you could have done to stop this or prevent this. Don't go down this road while we still need to keep focused. You want to find him, you want to get to him on time? Then don't let yourself break down like this when I need you to keep strong. You didn't give up before, you never gave up with his abduction by Marcus' men. Don't give up now. This is too soon for Starsky. You're damn right it is. But this is also too soon for you Hutch. Don't do this to yourself. Starsky would kick your ass if he could hear you – you know he would. Come on let me get you out of this place. Leave the Forensic boys do their job. Your job is back at the station. Maybe that guy who dropped the film to you through Huggy will come forward again with a new lead."

"Even if he does he may not know where Calvetti has gone or taken Starsky."

"Well its something anyway – and since Huggy and his bar assistant agreed to do that identikit on that man we've got the alert out for anyone matching his description. Chances are he moves around the area of Huggy's and he'll surface again soon."

"OK OK. Let's head back and look at what we've got. The lab have promised to get onto me the moment they get a match on the blood – if they can get a match with the erasure of most of it."

The two men began walking back to the main part of the house, both solemn and dejected in their steps. Once back in the home Dobey was detained by a few officers just inside the front entrance. Hutch broke away and continued on and out to the patrol cars. Tomkins was sitting in the driver's seat of the car they had come in and motioned to him now.

"Uh Captain? I'll catch up with you back at the station. I've kept Tomkins waiting long enough."

Dobey waved and nodded.

He took his leave and walked over to the squad car.

Tomkins climbed out as Hutch reached the car to greet the blond with a supportive pat to the back and a "You ready to leave or need more time here? I can wait."

"No I'm ready now. There's nothing more here for me now."

_Nothing. No sign of what I came here for._

Both cops heard the unspoken words weighing heavily between the sad spoken ones.

Tomkins had just turned the engine when they both heard Dobey shout at them from the expansive doorway. He was motioned energetically for them to wait and Hutch could see even from the distance that his heavy face was alive with something new, something promising.

He was out of the car and at Dobey's side, the car door left flung wide open in his haste to hear what his captain had to say.

"Hutch! Get back in here. Forensics have just alerted us. There still down in the hidden rooms when someone just walked right up to them from some back entry. It's one of Calvetti's men and he has just come forward – just walked right back in to the garage. He's ready to talk but already he's told the Forensic guys. Its great news Hutch – Thank God!"

"What! What?"

"The blood – its not Starsky's. Calvetti took out one of his own – just before he left here earlier. Its not Starsky's blood Hutch!"

Dobey watched as the first signs of hope crept back into Hutch's drawn face and he could feel his own facial muscles mirror the relief that flooded through him with the news.

He extended his arm to encompass Hutch as they moved quickly back into the house to meet with Calvetti's man.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS


	21. Chapter 21

**ONLY IF HIS EYES ARE BLUE**

**CHAPTER 21**

Once again I apologise for the delay in this story. I am travelling again through northern Italy and it has been hard to find the time to get my chapters out on a regular time frame. Rest assured the story will be finished...

Kerry

* * *

"His name is Stolz. Forensic guys said he just walked right up to them while they were lifting evidence from the studio room. Said he came in through the garage, that he wanted to talk, wanted to spill his guts on Calvetti."

Dobey was filling Hutchinson in as they hurried along the semi darkened tunnel way leading back to the hidden rooms from the main part of the house.

"It could of course be a set up and we'll need to get him back to the station for a full formal interrogation – and do a background check on him."

"Sure, but I want to talk to him now. We don't have the time to wait Captain. Let's just hear him out for now and worry about the formalities later. Christ it is the only lead we have, even if it is a false lead, it's something. He must be able to tell us something more than we have to go on."

Hutch zeroed in immediately on the muscle-bound man who likewise was eying he and Dobey as they entered the small outer office near the garage. He was sitting hunched over, the two Forensic officers standing over him. His thick heavily set body tensing as the tall blond and the rotund black Captain swung into the room.

As if acting on intuition the seated man's attention centred onto the blond and a look of something like wariness or recognition flashed on his face.

Dobey walked toward the Forensic men, but was not surprised to see Hutchinson waste no time in zeroing in on the burly guard.

After sharing a few words with the two other Detectives about what transpired so far with the witness Dobey watched them depart before joining Hutch and the guard.

Hutch had drawn up a nearby chair, swinging it around and straddling it in one fluid movement, his long lean muscled body moving in close to the severe looking man who continued to regard him closely.

Dobey felt the current between the two of them and wondered for a moment about the hesitation of either to speak – a brief suspension of time as each man took the other's measure.

The guard spoke first.

"You must be him? The cop's partner?"

"Yes. Hutchinson. How do you know about me?"

"Your name came up a hell of a lot the last coupla days and Cassandra told us that you were here last night? You were weren't you? You came and got Calvetti rattled didn't you? That's why we had to move him. Move your partner, the other cop?"

"Yes. That's right – Stolz isn't it? You gave your name as Stolz? You are one of Calvetti's men, one of his guards? What can you tell us Stolz? Why are you here? They said that you've just come back. Why have you walked back in here after you'd all just packed up and fled? I'm all ears, I'm giving you all of my intention Stolz. I want to hear what you have to tell me."

Stolz swallowed and looked around and then up at the wall cameras as though he imagined for just a moment his duplicity might be being caught on film.

Hutch sensed his unease. Dobey did too, but the Captain merely sat back and waited for his Detective to proceed with the questioning. This man was all they had and he didn't want to overwhelm him or steer him off track. One move in the wrong direction and they could lose the advantage fate had thrown them. Prudence told him to leave this one solely to his Sergeant – after all it wasn't as though Hutchinson was going to allow anyone else to question the man.

Hutch looked into the man's face and saw a mixture of fear and anger. Anger was winning and after only a brief hesitation he began to open up.

"Calvetti killed her. The bastard shot her in cold blood – twice. Blew her away and she didn't have any idea it was coming. She would have been lying there for a few moments and not even have known why he did it. She would have trusted him – she'd given everything to that asshole."

"Calvetti killed her? Who was she Stolz?"

"Cassandra. He killed Cassy. I'd only just been standing with her when we were in the room with the cop. Just like that – dead. Just like she was nothin' but a piece of meat. I can't forgive him for doing that to her."

Hutch jolted and looked quickly at his captain. He had killed Cassandra? Only hours or less after he had been at Calvetti's house and seen her. The bitch who had hurt Starsky. The bitch who had knifed and taunted him. Hutch took the news with perverse satisfaction. The blood on the floor was hers, not Starsky's. The blood was not Starsky's. The re-validation of this fact rushed through Hutch's veins with force. Stolz's anguish was his joy, his pain, Hutch's salve. Cassandra's blood, Cassandra's death – not his partner's. The bitch was dead and Starsky was alive.

_Please still be alive._

"Go on tell me what happened Stolz. Why did he kill her and where has he gone? Where has he taken my partner?"

"I don't know why he fucking killed her. None of us know. He is a freak! Last I knew we were told to get him ready to move. You had been here and Calvetti thought you'd be back with a whole team like you are now. He wanted us to get him – the cop – ready to transport."

"And what happened?"

"Cassandra never came out. I left her in there in the room with the cop when Calvetti came. There had been some sort of alert after I left the room. We couldn't get back in. Calvetti stopped me and went in himself. I think your cop partner was somehow threatening Cassandra to derail Calvetti - but he was so busted up I don't how he did that. Calvetti went in. He was armed. I thought he was going to force the cop to release Cassy. He was stuffing up Calvetti's plans to get the hell out of here. Next thing I knew there was gunshots. I just thought for sure Calvetti had killed your partner – "

The guard baulked when he caught the look the blond Detective threw him when he uttered those last few words. He flinched involuntarily when the tall man leaned in closer with a narrowed squint. Dobey put out his hand to touch Hutch's arm lightly as if in subtle warning. "Hutch….let him finish."

Stolz pulled back, adjusted his position on the chair and re-calculated his delivery of information. He followed on hurriedly.

"Look – I'm just saying it is what we would have thought he'd do – kill him, not one of us. But the fucker shot Cassy. I saw the footage later. Your friend, he was even shocked. I think he tried to help her and …well …that meant something to me. But it was useless – she was hit too bad. Then he shot her again."

"What did he do with my partner after this?"

"Smashed him over the head – real hard. Too hard. He might even be dead by now I don't know. Christ he was already in a bad way and then Calvetti pulverized him with his gun butt. We were told to load him up in the van, ready for transporting."

Hutch was breathing faster, his fear levels skyrocketing once again. The brief respite he had welcomed at the news of the bloodstain not being Starsky's was being quickly dispelled. Darkness was invading his mind again.

"He – was he still alive when you loaded him up? Still – still breathing when you last saw him – how many hours ago?"

"About five hours ago – and yeah he was alive. Bad way. Real bad way. Calvetti doesn't have a stop brake when it comes to letting his subjects have it. Your partner really pushed his buttons, really messed with Calvetti's head. Just made it worse for him – he would've have been better just shutting up and taking what Calvetti dished out."

Stolz saw the blond shake his head a little sadly at this statement.

_Starsky wouldn't do that. Starsky would never just accept domination and control – and it was not in his personality to back down to anyone or anything – even when he was pushed to the limit of his physical resources. _

Hutch was not surprised to hear what the guard had to say about his head strong partner's attitude.

"Where? Where did he take him? Who drove the van?"

"I don't know. Neither does the other guard I worked with last night. Normally we do the move of the subjects. Mostly we drive them to the auctions where Calvetti sells them off when he is no longer interested in them or they don't work out to suit what he wants. But this time he did it himself. He wanted to move your cop friend. Kept us all out of it. Told us to stay behind and clean up his mess. Told us to get rid of …Cassy's body and clean up the blood. Pack up the worst of his films and productions. He has different sorts – some just porn, dirty flicks for the general market –but then others – other stuff that is – well only for a selective market you know. Sort of sick stuff that Calvetti gets off on. Like he was some interrogator – like he might have been in the war or something. I don't know the full story about him. Who knows why he does the freaky things he does? He used Cassandra for that stuff – and us as well. "

_I know – I saw what she did and what you did too…..I saw it all on the film. What you both did to Starsky._

Stolz shrugged his thick shoulders and in doing so missed the looks that passed between the Detective and his Captain. Another moment when Dobey seemed to be silently advising for his Detective to hold back. To exercise restraint.

"Who knows what gets people off? But there are people who buy that shit and love it. Your partner got used for that sort of shit. Calvetti was crazy about him."

"You can fill us in on the background stuff later. For now – I need to know something, anything, about where Calvetti has taken my partner."

"Can't help you. He kept this move all to himself. Wanted to stash your partner somewhere real safe you know?"

"For Christ Sake you must know something!"

"I'm telling you what I know. I've come back here because I want you to get that son of a bitch for what he did to Cassy. She was special you know – she didn't deserve to die."

"You're wrong Stolz. She was as corrupt as he was. I saw what she did on film. I saw what you and your friend did too – and what you threatened my partner with – you'd better know that as you sit here and tell me that she was not like Calvetti. You need to remember that I saw what you all did to a bound and weakened man. A man who is my partner. "

Hutch was off his seat now and moving toward the guard, grabbing at his upper arm, his face livid with hatred.

"Hutch back off! Leave him. He's giving us more than we've got. We need him, we need this. Sit down will you and let him finish! "

Dobey was sweating profusely, the struggle to hold his agitated Detective back from the witness taking its toll. He knew of course that he couldn't really hold him back if Hutch really lost control. Dobey sensed that Hutch was fighting hard to control the true extent of his emotion. He too knew that this man was the best hope they had right now – but still he wanted to lash out at him.

Hutch conceded to his Captain but remained highly agitated.

"But he's given me nothing except to tell me that the blood wasn't Starsky's." He swung back to the seated guard.

"I need more Stolz – a hell of a lot more if you want to buy some slack with the charges that you're going to wear for your involvement in this whole sick empire. Give me more now. Facts and leads – not just background. My partner is running out of time - and if runs out of time, you're going to be running out of luck - whether you've decided to help us or not. Now give me something more!"

"Look I can tell you the places where we usually take the subjects for auction. But I don't know where he took the cop this time. This is different. His whole gameplay is different now. He's never been busted open like this. You came in here and blew his operation apart because he knew you'd be back. That was because that guy who does the pick ups of his subjects went to you. Isn't that right? That's what Cassandra said happened. Marty? Yeah that guy. That's how you got here to his house didn't you?"

"Marty? I don't know his name. But yeah, some guy delivered the film of Calvetti with my partner to a friend of mine who runs a bar. That's how I got to know about him. Who is he? This Marty?"

"Don't know him well – just the guy that brings in the "Takes" as they call them before they get brought here to Calvetti. Calvetti has people out there on the streets looking for subjects that he likes – that fit what he wants. He has kinky ideas of what they have to be like. Like him. Dark hair, blue eyes that sort of shit. Marty and these women he works for find the "Takes". Trail them, scope them out, make sure they're safe to nab and then grab them. Marty and his woman who he works with bring them into Calvetti. Unlucky for your friend that he just happened to have the looks that Calvetti likes and that Marty and that woman spotted him. "

Consternation was filling Hutch's face as he struggled to bring all the loose clues and facts together. Marcus' words floated into his head and so much now made sense. The smell of perfume in the Torino, the phone call early that morning from Starsky to say that he was delayed helping a woman with car troubles, the mystical ramblings of Marcus about a 'vixen' hunting 'Nobodies 'to take to some powerful figure.

"Would this Marty know where Calvetti might have taken my partner? He or the woman he works with? We'll need you to give us a description of this man and the woman. Full names, anything else you know about them."

"I don't know much. Hey I'm just a guard who is employed to do what he is told and to keep his mouth shut. I've picked up a few things but Calvetti never filled us in on a lot. More so Cassandra – she was important to him. She would have known stuff like that. She was closer to the boss. At least I thought she was - God she thought she was… She might have known more about this Marty who gave you the film. He must have been feeling like I am now – pushed into a corner by Calvetti – I don't know why he would have done that –taken that film to you. Shit he must have known that taking that stuff to the cops would be a certain death sentence for him. If I were you Detective, I'd be looking for Marty real fast because if he fingered the boss and brought you here, he's a dead man. I'd say your chances of reaching him alive now are zero. Marty won't be giving you any further leads on Calvetti. "

Dobey and Hutch exchanged looks again.

"Who else? You mentioned others. There must be others who worked here in this underground hell hole?" Hutch wanted to know.

"Sure but I'm not selling them out. They've done nothing to me and they can't help you anymore than I can with where your partner is. We were told to clean up here and get out as fast as we could. I guess Calvetti may try to get into contact with some of us again in the future if he thinks he can resurrect anything of this operation - but for now, he's busy burying himself."

"I don't want to hear what you just said Stolz. You don't get to clam up on us about any of this operation. I need the names of the other employees – all of them. One of them could have something you don't have on Calvetti's future moves. It'll be the same deal for them. If they come forward and co-operate with the police and our investigation their charges will be mitigated."

"Maybe they don't need to have the charges lessened. Maybe they won't be found."

"Stolz – maybe your charges won't be lessened if you don't give me their names. You think about that. You pull any punches on helping me find Starsky - then God help where you'll end up once I turn you loose to the courts. "

"You bastard. I didn't come forward to be treated like this. I could have kept you sweating about your friend. I could have left you thinking that blood was his and you would never have known!"

Something in the blonds eyes intensity had Stolz refocusing. The Detective seemed to pull himself back for a moment, closing his eyes, taking a breath and then speaking softly but urgently to the uncertain guard. His voice might have been soft but his tone was nothing less knife-edged urgency.

"You want Calvetti to pay for Cassandra don't you? Like I want Calvetti to pay for my partner Starsky? We're on the same page here Stolz – I can't help you get Calvetti without your help. You're coming forward will all be for nothing if you don't go the step further and give me everything you have. I'm asking you now to co-operate Stolz. You couldn't save Cassandra. Please let me try to save my partner. If I get Calvetti we both win and you can sleep easy knowing you've done what you can for your friend. Please Stolz. I am asking you to do this for me. I don't think my partner has very much time left. Please, please help me find my partner before it is too late for him - like it was for Cassandra."

Stolz looked around the office, down at his shoes, ran his thick fingers over his grim mouth and then looked up at Hutch.

"God's truth there isn't anything else that will give you a lead except maybe Reed. Jackson Reed – he's the other guard who was on with me last night. He's in pretty tight with Calvetti and I know that there is more that the boss trusts to him than me. He'll be no doubt some sort of link to the outside for Calvetti. I know for a fact that there is stuff that he took out of here early this morning when we split that the boss will want. Heavy incriminating stuff that he wouldn't have left here for you boys to find on your comb through today. I reckon it is a safe bet that if you trail Reed he'll lead you to Calvetti - eventually. Problem is, I don't know how long that'll take and like you said – well – you gotta know – well you gotta realise... " Stolz squirmed nervously in his chair as he tried to find the least provocative words to get his point across to the intense man standing over the top of him. "Shit man you've gotta realise that your partner was in bad shape when we loaded him up this morning. God knows what Calvetti has in mind for him once he left here. You've got to be prepared for the worst - that your friend is no longer with Calvetti. That he's dead. "

Stolz cringed as the blond man across from him visibly shook at his words.

"Then all the more reason that we don't have time to fuck around here. Give it to me now. Everything you have on this Reed. We'll pick him up and I'll keep your name out of it as best as I can. Where can I find him?"

"First you promise me that you'll get a team together to get Cassy's body. I don't want her left in the slum hole we had to ditch her in. I want her to have a respectable resting place. I want that much for her."

"Stolz of course we'll retrieve her body. It will all happen as normal procedure once we get your statement. You have my word. I will put in a request for you to review her body too. Now please – the details on this other guard. I need them now. "

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Three hours later following Stolz's information and Identikit on Marty and his dire prediction of the man's fate, a radio call was patched into the precinct by one of the duty patrol cars. A body fitting the man Stolz described as "Marty" was found in a side alley not far from the last address that was recorded for him. Two shots to the head. Clean and swift. Hutch received the news from his captain and it fell like another heavy blow to him, crushing down on the last vestiges of thin hope he still harboured for Starsky. If it was the man who had slipped him the film of Starsky, which in all likelihood Hutch knew it would be, then it was just another indicator of Calvetti's ruthlessness.

Starsky was in the hands of a killer and a sadist and by all accounts the killer in Calvetti was raising the stakes in his efforts to evade the police.

Three hours since Stolz had handed himself in, the man in question was weary and irritable – still held in an interrogation room, still undergoing extensive questioning by two of the other detectives assigned to the case. Hutch had moved on. He had already attained from the guard what he wanted. Hutch now also had the lead into his co-worker, the other guard named by Stolz. Jackson Reed. Reed had been rounded up and brought in for questioning.

Hutch had pulled out every stop to bring the second guard to a point where he was prepared to spill his guts on whatever he had on Calvetti. The first shots in of Cassandra's shattered body had been enough to spur him into a quick clarification of his exact role in her death and the subsequent placement of her corpse.

Fatigued beyond the point of feeling it anymore and so utterly drained by constant anxiety, Hutch's interface with the new witness presented an ugly and dangerous picture. Dobey could see it and so could every other officer who was involved with the case.

Dobey censored him now as Hutch slammed out of the interrogation room and slapped the outside wall in the hallway. He had left the other Detective in the interview with the guard called Reed.

"Hutch I want you to leave this for a while. Pull back and get out of here. Go clean up and get some food and some decent coffee. You're close to losing it altogether. You should see yourself from out here. You're just too close to this whole thing."

"Listen Captain. This is as good as I'm going to get with what we have on Calvetti. It's all here inside these walls. Reed and Stolz. The girl is dead – so too it seems is the guy who fingered Calvetti by handing me the film. The woman who is in with Marty seems to have gone underground and she is probably who took Marty out for Calvetti. Now all I have is these two thug heads. They are all that is between Starsky and me. If I can't get them to break something open then Starsk is dead. He'll damn well die waiting for me to get this shit together and find him. I can tell you Captain; I'm none too happy about the prospect of my partner dying while waiting. I fucking have to get these two to open up with something and I'm just about out of patience with the two of them. Can't you see how close to the edge we are with all of this Captain?"

"Yes I can. Hutch, I can see how close to the edge you have been since this whole mess with Starsky began and that you've been hanging on with your fingernails for the past two days. You're going to go over that edge, and once you're over it there will be no way I can leave you on this side of the investigation. I'll have to lock you out and I sure don't want to do that. Now please for the love of God will you calm it. We've achieved a hell of a lot in the last few hours. The way I see it is that we're closing in on this bastard Calvetti. Just stay out of Reed's face and let him relax a little. You've got him so damn cornered he is too scared to think. Let Bradshaw have him for a while. He might turn something up when you're no longer in his face screaming threats at him."

As if to prove a point for Dobey the door to the investigation room opened and Bradshaw exited. Spotting Dobey and Hutch he turned toward them.

Hutch was upon Bradshaw before he had a chance to move.

"You get something from him?"

"Well yeah I think it's the best we've got to go on. It could turn out to be a solid pathway back to Calvetti and a way of closing in on him within the next forty-eight hours."

"Forty eight hours! I need something in the next few hours. Starsky hasn't got two days for Christ's Sake! What fucking good is that to us?"

"Look Hutchinson, get off my back will you? You're lucky I got any further with the guy after the way you were grilling him in there! I'm not your frigging enemy here, nor are any of the other guys in this station so just remember that."

"Is that so Bradshaw? Well last I looked it wasn't your partner who's missing. Your partner is back in that squad room sitting on his ass safe and sound not like mine who is out there somewhere waiting for us to come get him from this sick motherfucker Calvetti. So don't you tell me - don't fucking tell me – to get off your back. I'll ride your back and any other cop's back in this department if I think it'll help get me to my partner in time."

Dobey put himself between Hutch's belligerence and Bradshaw's indignant response.

"That's enough Hutchinson! I told you before to step back. Bradshaw's right. You're not winning any favors by attacking your cop brothers. Now Bradshaw's got something from your witness in there and he's got it by keeping his cool and not firing off like you have been. Now I damn well suggest that you let him explain without ripping into him." He turned to the other detective. "Go ahead and tell us what you've got."

Hutch nodded and swiped his hand down his throat, pulling at his collar with agitated movements.

"Shit! Shit! Look I know. Sorry Pete, " he addressed the other officer by his Christian name, trying for a level of appeasement " I'm sorry ok? I'm just so strung out here. I'm crazy with it I guess. "

"Don't sweat it Hutch, I know where you're coming from. We all know what you're up against with this second abduction of Starsky so soon after that freak Marcus got his men onto him. But try to remember, I'm on your side you know – we all are in here. We all want Starsky back too alive and in one piece. We'll get him Hutch. We'll get him. Just try to keep your focus."

"Ok Ok…. Go on will you. What have you got?"

"So – this Reed believes that Calvetti will be wanting to get his hands on stuff that Reed has in his possession. He says that he thinks that his boss will want to access the tapes and footage he left behind when he fled the place with Starsky earlier. Apparently he ordered Reed to pack up all the heavy stuff pertaining to "David" as Reed said Calvetti referred to Starsky as, and that he told him that he will contact him eventually to collect the stuff. According to Reed most of the evidence the Forensic guys lifted from his house and studios during the bust was just more generic porno stuff. So I suppose it is a matter of keeping Reed in our sights and waiting for some contact from Calvetti. It's the best we've got and the quickest way to him. The leads back through the dead guy Marty will take a while to put together. Obviously there are more people involved with him, but that will all take time."

"Ok so he – Reed – has this stuff that Calvetti wants? Where has he stashed it?"

"Says he collected it from Calvetti's safe late this morning before they left to dump the girl's body. I'll arrange some uniforms to go to his home to pick it up and then we're going to have to set it loose with a heavy tail to wait and see if Calvetti does in fact make contact with him. If the call or contact comes through then we'll get Calvetti when Reed makes the drop of the stuff to him. It's a strong lead Hutch – a really strong lead."

Dobey broke in. "And do you get the feeling that he really doesn't know where Calvetti is currently or where he has taken Starsky?"

"He says this whole move was unexpected and out of the norm for how they usually handle the subjects. He's given us other names and places to follow up where Calvetti has taken his subjects to auctions before – but that will take us days to investigate and he doesn't believe any of those avenues will uncover Calvetti. The whole world this Calvetti moves in is one deep cesspool and won't be easily broken into – Jesus human trafficking and sex slavery and God knows what else! But that is by the way and is one huge investigation that will need to be tackled. But right now - as you said Hutch – we need to get to Calvetti to get to Starsky. It seems Reed is our fastest ticket there."

"And if he doesn't make the call to Reed? We could be sitting around waiting and he just stays under…" frustration burned in a pair of tired blue eyes.

Dobey and Bradshaw exchanged worried glances.

"Then we'll go the longer way around finding Calvetti – but we'll find him in the end. We'll get the sonofabitch Hutch – one way or the other, we'll get him."

"Oh I know we'll get him – I know whatever happens I will be facing him down. But first I have to know I can get to Starsk…. Before it's too late." Hutch looked bleakly toward the door of the interrogation room where the best link to finding Starsky sat.

Then with a renewed burst of determination, his voice was rough and steel edged as he ground out the words.

" Then let's do this now. Cut him loose and throw out the bait. I want to be the one on his tail – if that call comes in, I'm going to know about it straight away."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

"So what do you want us to do with him Joey? Just leave him lying there like that in the room? He's really fucked up bad. Your friend sure did a number on him – and a cop and all."

Joey's second in charge seemed concerned as he handed his boss a tumbler of whisky. It was by now early evening and they had taken possession of the ailing cop brought in by Joey's colleague that morning. As per his boss's instructions he had arranged to have the beaten up cop placed in a secure room, not that he thought there was any need for added security. The cop was in no shape to present a threat of flight. His physical status was so grave that the only place Joey's men thought he was likely to escape to was not on this earth.

"That monster Calvetti is not my friend Tony – we might help each other with our businesses but he's not a friend. Crazy piece of shit! Dropping this load onto me. What the hell am I supposed to do if this cop dies?"

"Don't know boss, but I think it is something you'd better start considerin' because I can tell you there ain't one bit of him that ain't smashed up. I can't get him to wake up enough to drink and it's only a matter of time that his knife wounds are gonna get infected. Reckon he's got broken ribs, maybe fractured skull and jaw – hell maybe his arm could be busted too. He's gonna be lying in his own piss and shit soon too – Christ he's going to be one big mess. You want that we just leave him like that? Like some gutted animal? Its not how we normally treat our stable Joey."

"Don't you think I know that Tony? But what else do you suggest we do? I bring in a doc from outside, first it will leave us open and second the doc will just say there isn't anyway he can help him here without hospital. We kill him and put him out of his misery , then I'll have Calvetti to answer to and you can say goodbye to your very comfortable job here with me. We'll all go down."

"You want us to take care of Calvetti then? That way you can do what you want with the cop?"

"Killing a major feeder to our operation – which Calvetti is – for the sake of a wounded cop? No. He says he wants him back – wants this cop back. Let him take his chances. Take his chances that the poor bastard he left here with us will somehow live. Not likely, but not my worry."

"So? You mean just - "

"Just like I said Tony. Close the door and leave him. Get someone to check on him from time to time. If he rouses enough feed him some water and some painkillers. I'm not a sadist like Calvetti – I'm prepared to relieve his pain a little if I can. But if he can't be roused there's nothing we can do. Strip him down completely and get one of the girls to clean him up – we can do that much. Other than that…."

Joey shrugged and threw back his drink.

"Other than that….its up to his own will to survive."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	22. Chapter 22

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 22**

* * *

He held the receiver in one hand while his other played absently with the empty glass on his desk. Maybe he was feeling a little mellow from the pre-dinner whiskys he had indulged in earlier and the one quick shot he had just thrown back after coming back from his inspection of the beleaguered cop . Or, maybe he was just getting too old and too soft for this game. Either way the shock of viewing the ruined man that Calvetti had dropped in his lap had left him shaking and uncertain.

The man called Starsky was a complete mess and it in all likelihood would not make it through the next twenty-four hours. Calvetti had really gone too far this time with his sadistic repertoire. Gone too far and then left him to pick up the pieces. Joey wasn't used to cleaning up other people's messes nor was he used to harboring slaves that were three quarters dead. It wasn't in his nature. Violence was something that he didn't particularly have the stomach for – more so in his aging years. Brutality for the sake of it held little appeal for him. He had no qualms about selling people for sex, offering up sex as a commodity and a bargaining tool – but violence and savagery left him cold and repulsed.

Calvetti was nothing more than a barbarian. To have reduced the man called David Starsky to this sorry state, to have desecrated what was once a strong brave and noble male body was all such a waste.

Still cringing from his inspection of the critically injured cop, acrid distaste for Calvetti's inhumane behavior still in his mouth despite the residue of whisky, Joey made a decision.

Before changing his mind he had placed the call to the number left for him as a direct contact to Calvetti.

He was not surprised to hear him pick up in only a few rings. He can't have imagined that Calvetti would have been liberal with dispensing his number and no doubt he was one of only a very select few with a pipeline to him. Joey also knew that the sadist would be eager for any news on his victim the cop.

"Its me."

"Joey. I thought you made it clear you wanted me out of your space. I didn't expect you to contact me quite so soon…but I'm glad to hear from you. Is there anything wrong with David?"

"You mean apart from the fact that he is nearly dead?"

"Has he deteriorated?"

"Calvetti you know what you did to him earlier today. You know how bad he was when you hauled him in here to me and then you took your depravity up a notch when I was stupid enough to leave him with you again. He's in bad shape Calvetti. Real bad shape. I don't want his blood on my hands and damn you for leaving me in this position. I've decided against keeping him Calvetti. You can come and pick him up tonight. Get this mess outa my house. The last thing I need is a dead cop on my doorstep. He's yours. You did this to the poor bastard, now come and deal with it."

"Joey – we had a deal. A gentleman's agreement. You just can't renege on me now. That's not how we do business."

"Damn right Calvetti, this is not how I do business ever! There isn't one part of this sick situation that is gentlemanly. The cop is your shit – not mine. Come and get him before he dies on me here."

"Listen. I can't afford to do that Joey. Just till the heat is gone, just till I know his partner can't track me down. Then I'll get him from you. I told you that I want him back. But I can't take him just yet. "

"Well the way he looked when I just saw him less than twenty minutes ago Calvetti, all you'll be getting back is a corpse. I can't figure you Calvetti. Why do you bust up your subjects like this if you want to keep them, keep using them? I've seen you do this before with some of the men you have delivered to me. But this one? This one is just too far gone to be of any use to me and probably to you ever again. The worst of it is, that this man is a freaking cop! A cop that probably the whole damn LAPD is looking for right now!"

"They're not going to find him at your place Joey. You're not on my regular list of associates. David is safe there with you."

"I'm telling you Calvetti – he's far from safe and neither am I. This whole things spells disaster. I don't want to be harboring a dead cop. I don't want to have to deal with disposing of his body in a couple of days time or having here on my premises if I get busted. You've put him at death's door. You come and take him till he passes through it."

"NO! Look, look….I have a man on the outside who I can arrange to help with this current situation. One of my heavies – a guard – Reed. I told him that I would contact him for some articles of mine he has cleared from my studios. I can get him to help us with David. He won't bring the heat to your place. I'll have him bring in some medical supplies for David. I can't arrange medical assistance, but I know he can get his hands on drugs – medical drugs. It might be all we need to keep David alive and recovering."

"Then you'd better act fast. He'll need antibiotics because his wounds look real bad. He needs drugs for his pain Calvetti. I'm not a monster and you've left this man in agony. You arrange it real fast you hear me. Antibiotics, stuff to clean his wounds up and pain killers. Big painkillers –not just aspirin. Then maybe we can get some water into him. Right now he is barely conscious so my staff can't get even a drop down his throat."

"Alright. Alright Joey. Give me a couple of hours or so. I have to give Reed time to pull in his favours with some other contacts for the stuff. Then I'll get him to your place and he can drop it all off to you. Get the drugs into David and give me an update on how he is responding."

"Make sure you get it done fast Calvetti. I'll let my men know to expect this guy Reed. Make sure he is not tailed. Can you trust him?"

"Yes – he's my best man. No one will trail him."

"You'd better be sure Calvetti. You bring the heat here we're finished. Next time you deal merchandise to me – if there is a next time – you'd better be fucking sure you keep your filthy hands off them before I get them. I don't want anymore of your broken up subjects, particularly broken cops."

"I told you Joey – David is very special."

"Yeah well if you don't get your man onto getting those medical supplies here – your "David" is going to be very dead."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Reed was now completely alone with the tightly coiled detective and it didn't leave him with a good feeling in the pit of his gut. Earlier he had been escorted back to his home with a small group of plain-clothes cops, Hutchinson at the helm of the small operation to track Reed's moves. His phone was now tapped, the two technicians who had set it up having left his small apartment earlier.

Two other cops who had accompanied Hutchinson had taken little time in uncovering the tapes that Reed had collected that morning for Calvetti. After tossing the bedroom where Reed had told them the material was to be found they had brought the evidence back into the small living room and laid them on the coffee table. Hutchinson had remained in the room with Reed watching him with a steely eye, his body between him and the door, while the other two scoured the other two small rooms. He cast his eyes over the presented material and then fixed Reed with a cutting glance.

"This is all of it? The films, the footage you referred to that Calvetti wants from you?"

"Yeah that's the lot. It's the camera footage of his time in the room over the past couple of days….ahhh…of your partner's time."

"I see." It was all that Hutchinson offered him back verbally. But Reed saw so much more in his response in the cold hardness that crept into his face.

And in those two words, leaden and dark, Reed understood the implication of the threat. He swallowed and shifted in agitated restlessness on his perch on the edge of his chair.

"Hey this stuff is nothing to do with me. This is the normal process that the boss gets us to film. He records what goes on in the room and the subject and then watches the tapes back. Usually its just normal security footage – the cameras are there to ensure that the subject doesn't try anything – a deterrent to try to break out. That is usually all this stuff is."

"Usually? Are you trying to say that these tapes don't hold the usual 'stuff" that your boss demands?"

Reed looked at the two other cops as if seeking silent support from them against the icy eyes of the blond. But they remained impassive, remained silent.

""You know. We've already explained it to you. Stolz and I have already told you…. Calvetti went off the deep end with your partner. He …um…well shit…this footage is pretty heavy stuff. Calvetti just pushed things too far with the cop. Too far, you know?"

"No I don't know Reed – but you and I can probably have a talk about that while we're waiting for your sick fucker of a boss to call you. We'll have some time so you can explain it all to me a little better. I'd like to understand it all better than I do. You can be the one to explain it ok?"

The detective sat forward, his arms on his knees, the flashing blue eyes coming in too close for Reed's comfort. Reed pulled back unconsciously increasingly the distance between him and the glacial iciness.

"Come on – back off will you? You've got no right putting the threats on me like this. You hear him don't you?"

Reed turned in supplication to the two other cops who were watching the interaction between the suspect and their colleague.

"He's threatening me – clearly threatening me. And I'm here co-operating with you all. You want me to co-operate, then back off with the heavying why don't you?"

Hutchinson merely turned away from the squirming man and addressed the other two officers.

"Get a unit to pick this shit up and get it down to Metro and Forensics will you? I'll talk to Dobey later about its content – see if it yields anything else that can point us to Starsky's whereabouts. For now its just a matter of waiting. I'll talk to the both of you later. Try to keep the stairwell and entrance covered will you? Let me know if you see anything that could indicate that Calvetti is trying to make contact with this place or Reed? I'll be sticking to our friend here. If I need you I'll call down to you ok?"

Hutchinson had conferred with them briefly before they departed to take up their external posts.

Now it was just down to the two of them. Reed was highly conscious of the looming presence of the stormy faced blond.

He wanted to kill Stolz for tossing him to Hutchinson. Objectively Reed knew that he was physically bigger and more powerful than the detective but he had never felt so outsized and intimidated. Vengeance was an empowerment so much stronger than bodily dimensions and right now the blond was brimming with it.

He was prowling the perimeter of the small cheap apartment, his eyes flitting from the Reed's phone to the window facing the street, to the door where outside in the hallway and stairwell he knew the other two plainclothes officers were hovering. Reed sat rigidly in a high backed kitchen chair. At any moment he looked like he might make for the door himself, his unease with the blond mounting as the tension in the room was reaching unbearable levels.

"So you're sure he has your number to this place? Has Calvetti contacted you here before Reed?"

"I've told you he has. But it's not like he's going to walk right up to my building you know. There's no point in having those cops outside. It's not Calvetti's style to pay me a home visit. If he wants me, he phones me. He doesn't make it a practice to come to the hired staff. He doesn't leave his compound all that much and with this sort of situation he's even less likely to walk out on the streets."

"The cops outside stay. Nothing is going to be left to chance here Reed. I want every opportunity to corner this freak and to follow every trail that can lead us to my partner. I'm not interested in your opinions so keep them to yourself."

"So what are we gonna do here? You planning on just sitting here glaring at me for how ever long it takes to hear from Calvetti?"

Reed flinched perceptively as the cop left the window and made his way back to him before letting his long body drop onto the narrow sofa.

"Yes. How ever long it takes. I'm not leaving you Reed – so get used to it. And you're not leaving here – so get used to that. Now shut the fuck up will you. I'm tired of your voice. I want to be alone."

Reed wanted to say that if he wanted to be alone then why couldn't he just leave his apartment and leave him in peace. The tension of the detective's surly company was taking its toll on him.

Instead he kept his mouth shut as ordered and settled back allowing himself to relax just a little.

It was fine by him. As long as the cop stopped grilling him and dropped the cutting looks then he was prepared to do as he was told.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Joey made his way back to the secluded and locked room. He had left one of his girls cleaning up the wounded cop while he had gone to put the call through to Calvetti.

The woman was finishing up, gathering up the soiled bed linen, towels and the ruined clothes that Starsky had worn when Calvetti had brought him in.

She looked up at her boss as he entered the room.

"Any change in his condition? Is he waking up at all?"

"No, nothing. I did as you asked and cleaned him up as good as I could manage with warm water and some disinfectant. His wounds look nasty and he's running a fever now. He's still not rousing so I can't get even a bit of water into him. I've cooled him down as much as I can and have left him naked. Makes it easier to clean him. I haven't got any bandages or dressings big enough to cover his wounds."

She pulled the bundle of her linen into her arms and added unnecessarily.

"He's not good Joey. "

"I know. But you've done what you can for now. I'm hoping we can get some drugs sent in for him – but what good will they be if he does not wake up enough to take them I don't know."

"He needs more than tablets Joey. He needs hospital – emergency treatment and soon. He's going to die if we leave him like this."

Joey took in the grey pallor and the sweat slicked body of the ailing cop. The wounds from where Calvetti had stabbed him were still oozing and the head injury looked hideous – one side of the curly haired man's face was blackening and swollen – his eye completely closed and his brow oozing from a deep gash.

He didn't bother replying to her last words.

It was clearly obvious to both of them that she was right in her assessment.

Joey knew it.

The cop called David was doomed. Doomed and it was left to Joey to clean up the fallout.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The television on low, Reed slouched down in one of the easy chairs staring aimlessly at the flickering image. His moody overseer had retreated to a chair further away in the corner of the room near the small window.

Every once in a while Reed had stolen a covert glance toward him but Hutchinson had remained mute since their last words, seemingly centered down on his own world. He was withdrawn and tense and utterly unapproachable. Reed had decided he was lucky to have been spared any further threatening gestures in the past hour and was thankful for the respite of being the focus of the cop's belligerent attention.

He was beginning to sweat with the realization that this cop's menacing vigil of him was not going to end any time soon. How long did this guy think he could sit here waiting for a contact that might not come tonight, in the morning or evening the next evening? Might not in fact, even come at all.

But Reed discounted that. Calvetti would want the footage of his precious David. It was his habit to cloister himself away and watch his own handiwork and the suffering of his victims, over and over. That was the nature of this depraved man's needs. His appetite for the dark haired cop was insatiable and Reed held the banquet in his possession.

Yes Calvetti would make the contact. But when?

Christ he could be trapped like this for some time – with this edgy detective - unless there was some other lead on Calvetti's whereabouts to pull the cop off of him.

And then the phone rang.

Reed jumped. Hutchinson's head jerked up from his fixed consternation on the window.

"Answer it now." The voice was low and firm, the blond head directing Reed toward the phone.

Reed did as he was told.

As he picked up the receiver, the other man's head came in close to his to listen to the voice on the other end. Reed tried to not react to the proximity of the tense body pressed close to him and the quiet rage beneath its surface.

"Reed? Are you alone there?"

Calvetti's timbre was unmistakable – his measured speech haughty and superior. Reed nodded quickly toward the detective to indicate that it was the call they had been waiting on.

"Yes. Yes I am Mr. Calvetti."

"Did you get away alright? Manage to pack up what I wanted and to take care of the - the problem? Did you leave her somewhere safe? "

"Yes Mr. Calvetti. There were no slip-ups. We were able to find a safe place for the girl. I – I have all the footage and films you asked me to retrieve from the studios. We left behind a hell of a lot but none of them were the ones that you were concerned about."

"Good. Good. Are you sure you collected all that we had on David?"

Reed felt the body next to his stiffen at reference to his partner.

"Yes. All of it. I have all of it. What do you want me to do with it? Are you wanting me to bring it to you Mr. Calvetti?"

"No."

Reed slumped forward.

The cop stiffened even more, his reaction immediately discernible to the guard.

The response from Calvetti was not what either man in the room wanted to hear – each for different reasons. Reed closed his eyes at the filling dread that he was now going to be of no use to the police and he would suffer accordingly for his suddenly diminished value.

Reed knew that Hutchinson would be raging inside at the single utterance by Calvetti. Every hope the police had centered on Calvetti wanting this guard to meet up with him. To have Reed lead them to Calvetti.

And then Calvetti went on.

"I will want those films soon enough – but right now I need you to do something else for me. Something urgently, something that cannot wait evening for a few hours. Reed – do you still have contact with that Nurse you used previously when I needed medical supplies?"

Reed seemed a little confused but clarified Calvetti's question.

"You mean Donna? Donna the nurse from Midway? Not so much anymore – haven't seen her in a while - no."

Reed felt the iron grip seizing his upper arm and looked into the warning light of the blue eyes of the cop next to him. The cop was telling him to play along with what Calvetti wanted.

"But….but I could easily arrange a meet with her again. We still – still frequent the same places – the same bar. Why Mr. Calvetti? You want me to get her to help us again?"

"It would seem that David is in urgent need of some medical assistance. I don't have David with me anymore. It isn't safe with the police searching for him after the intrusion into my home. The people I have taken him to are unable to provide such assistance and wish for me to arrange it. I need you to get onto your friend Reed. I need you to get her to gather up as much in the way of drugs and dressings as she is able in a short period of time. Then I need you to deliver them to the place where David is being held."

Reed's pulse picked up at the double implication. On one hand this was great news for himself as it meant it would get Hutchinson and the department off his back. He was providing a linking service to their lost cop. It should buy him some leeway with his sentencing. But then he knew also that the dire news for Hutchinson's partner was not going to bode well for anyone who had helped put the curly haired cop in this precarious situation.

Hutchinson was looking wild eyed and frantic as though he might at any moment rip the phone from his hands and bark down the receiver to Calvetti himself. He jerked Reed's arm roughly again and shoved the receiver closer to his mouth – forcing him to get on with the interaction.

"Ok Ok. I understand Mr. Calvetti. So I'll get onto her immediately. I'll get the usual stuff we get – pain meds, dressings, antibiotics, ointments. Whatever I can get at short notice. Then what?"

"Then as I said Reed. I need it delivered to the place where I have placed David for the short term. I am not able to return to the establishment as by agreement I've had to terminate my relationship with David until such time as I can bring him back to my possession. But you are permitted to make the drop of supplies."

"You won't be meeting with me then Mr. Calvetti?"

"No – not yet. This is more urgent. I'll allow you no more than two hours to get the supplies and then half an hour to get it to the address I will give you. You make the delivery and say nothing. The man holding David for me is none too happy about having our organization involved any further."

Reed thought that Hutchinson was going to lose it at any moment. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, the crease between his eyes had deepened, the grip that circled Reed's upper arm was excruciating.

Reed knew what the detective was willing him to do.

_Get the address. Get the fucking address. Get it now will you! _

"I understand. Yes. I need the address then Mr. Calvetti. I need the address where I can leave the supplies for the sick cop."

Moments later, the phone call complete, Reed collapsed forward into a relieved sag. His shaking hand had written down the information with the paper and pen thrust in his face by the jagged breathing man beside him. Once done, the vice like grip that had held him dropped away. Gone was the looming despondency and cold-eyed stare. In its place Reed saw a man galvanized into action, icy fear revitalized into hot headed hope.

Undue force was used to punch in numbers into the phone with one hand while he pushed back his rumpled hair from his face with the other. The vivid eyes motioned for Reed to stay beside him and to not move.

After asking to be put through to his Captain's office he wasted no time in pulling the extension cord of the phone toward the door, its length easily reaching across the short distance. While holding the receiver he ripped open the door and bellowed down the stairwell to the cop posted outside, his thunderous cry bouncing of the thin walled hallway.

"We've got it! Got the lead. One of you get the car…NOW!"

Back to the phone in his hand now he reverted his attention to the person of the other end.

"Cap'n …. He's alive! Starsky's alive. Calvetti made contact. Get an ambulance, some back up patrols and get ready to head out. I've got the location where Starsky is being held. I'll roll with the two officers here and take Reed with me, so you can patch through to me in their car. …."

He gave the address, dropped the phone and pulled Reed roughly out of the door with him, already shouting again at the remaining cop outside.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSSH


	23. Chapter 23

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 23**

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For those of you out there who might be pedantic with writing styles, I claim creative licence with this story's literary style ...and do not apologize for some flexibility with my third person POV in this chapter.

Sometimes a liberal dose of changing of POV adds to the ebb and flow of the plot and the action - so that is my excuse and I am sticking to it ;)

In this chapter for ease of transitional POV I have used mainly pronouns for our boys...I like the tone that using pronouns adds to a scene that is tense and edgy...and God knows poor Hutch is very very edgy in the following scenes. When writing this chapter I felt almost more comfortable divorcing "Hutch" from the pain of what he was having to go through by referring to him by pronoun and third person.

* * *

The woman had returned to the room once again, the room where the broken man lay, quiet and still and very much alone.

She realized that there was not much to be gained by checking up on him as she had only done so less than a half an hour earlier. There was no anticipation on her behalf that his condition might have improved. She found however that it had probably deteriorated. Since sponging his sweating and bloody body down earlier and removing his soiled and sodden bedding, she had hoped that the fever might have broken. But now he lay dry and hot all over again, the fever cycling back to grip him in its hot embrace once more.

Her hand felt the burning, tight skin, parched and ashen and she knew then that the infection in his wounds was fueling the furnace of the fever that racked his bruised and battered body. A cool sponging did little to appease the fire that raged beneath his discoloured skin – but it at least made her feel as though she was doing something, anything to give him some relief. Cracked and swollen lips would not part for her to provide him with fluids and another attempt to do was futile, the water slipping out of the slack mouth and down over his chin and chest.

Pointless. Dehydration was gripping him now as badly as the fever and it would surely begin to shut his body down soon.

She pulled up the loose clean sheet to cover his naked body, as she knew that internally he would be feeling cold. The man she now spoke to by name as "David" once more began to shiver, his weakened body beginning another cycle of writhing as his inner thermostat struggled to bring his chaotic temperature under control. Adjusting the coverings over him she looked at the swollen features of his face and wondered yet again how much longer this man would be able to last. Whoever he was, she doubted that he done anything to deserve this treatment or to end up in this horrific situation.

Had this "David" done anything apart from encounter the man she knew of as Calvetti?

Calvetti had brought this man here - into Joey's own personal space. She was surprised that her boss had even permitted it to happen. But then Calvetti was a powerful figure in Joey's "business world". Obviously Calvetti must have called upon his professional prestige to get the beaten up cop a room in Joey's house.

Either way she knew it would only be a matter of time before Joey would move this David elsewhere.

That is if he was to live long enough for that to happen.

Joey had said that medication was on the way – but no amount of tablets would be of help to this man unless he could wake up enough to swallow them. Maybe the deliverer of the drugs would have injectable antibiotics and pain relief, but no one in this house was trained to administer injections - so she knew even that would be of little value. She wondered now whether she could persuade Joey to get the man some urgent medical help. Perhaps if she talked to Joey she could make him see reason. Her boss was not a cruel man in her opinion, though many would argue that given how he made his livelihood. But she appreciated her boss's better qualities enough to know that he would not want this blatant injustice laid on his doorstep.

With a final sweep of her hand to pull the covers up over the contorted shivering form, she left the room with her mind made up.

She would go to her boss and appeal to his humanity.

David also needed an extra layer of warm blankets now that his fever had spiralled around again. It was a small thing she could do for him. She would retrieve some from the linen room.

As she left the wing of the house where David was being kept she was drawn to the window opening up to the front entrance of the house. A wild commotion had broken out and she caught the red flash of police lights, the beam of torches and the loud demanding shouts of men's voices. This house had never been a target for police activity. Joey's stable and tightly run business of underground sex workers and "slaves" was kept entirely separate from his place of residence. Separate and divorced. That was how Joey liked to keep his operation running and his personal life untouchable. Pulling back quickly with shock and fear she knew instantly that her planned action with regard to the injured man would be now aborted.

Everyone in this establishment was just about to have their game plan changed.

Any decisions with regard to what to do with him now was not only out of her hands but also her boss's hands.

Joey had told her enough for her to understand that the critically ill man was a cop and that the City's Police Department was pursuing his whereabouts.

Judging by the level of activity outside Joey's house, it was obvious that the cavalry had just arrived.

Part of her was aware of mounting anxiety at her own culpability in this whole scenario, and yet another part of her felt relief that the man called David was going to be found and helped.

Maybe the help would not be on time for him, but she was still relieved that she was no longer going to have to be the one to keep a lonely vigil over his deteriorating state.

A flurry of drama was at the house's main entrance and getting closer. Raised voices became louder and more urgent and then sharp, raw accusatory shouts.

The front door crashed open and she stepped back into the cover of a side room doorway. A tall blond man strode across the entrance of the foyer; a large gun held skillfully in his hands, his face pulled tight with rage. Beside him he dragged the night security guard who patrolled the main gate to the house. He was screaming at him to direct him to Joey's whereabouts, the menacing gun punctuated his menacing words as he shoved the guard ahead of him. Other cops were coming in now behind him and she could hear the shrill of a distant ambulance.

Medical assistance was on the way for the man who lay burning up the back room of the house.

The image of the tortured cop on the bed filled her head.

The cavalry had well and truly arrived for him.

But had it arrived too late?

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

He didn't move.

For what was the point?

He had felt it in his bones, long before the warning signs came.

The inevitable end result of a bad business decision. He should never have allowed Calvetti to draw him into such a minefield. A missing cop on the threshold of death was hardly a good bet, even if it promised future bargaining power with a powerful and influential client such as Calvetti was in this sordid sex slave marketing arena.

And now the inevitability of his own stupid decision-making was raising its ugly head.

Joey knew as soon as he caught the first glimmer of red through his office window. He knew more when the glimmer in the distance became a pulsing strobe of flashing red near his front driveway gate. And, he knew for certain when the shouts rang out and the smashing on his front door resounded in the night air. More shouts heralded the front door banging wide open, crashing against the internal plastered wall with the force of the attack.

He remained still and calm.

The volatile situation he had found himself in at this very moment demanded nothing less of him.

This was no time for a knee jerk reaction. Not when he heard the vitriol in the foyer and the cursing yells from the officer leading the raid. To attempt any type of escape or defense now would be pure stupidity.

Tantamount to suicide.

And when his office door was propelled open, crashing in on its hinges with a raging splintering force, and he received his first view of the officer leading the bust, he was sure it was a wise decision. A tall blond plainclothes cop held up a badge for the space of a second with one flick of a big hand and commanded a steady hold on a long barreled gun with the other. The sheer threat in the piercing cold eyes raking over his body was decoded quickly. The decoding told him enough – told him that any countering or retaliatory action or merely physical or mental resistence - might well leave him with a bullet in his chest.

Too late now. Too late by far.

Deep down he knew the moment that Calvetti had delivered the ailing cop to his home that he had been placed in a treacherous position. Calvetti had brought the law to his door, to his refuge. But more than that, by the look of the seething mass of emotions that now stood vibrating inside his broken office doorway, Calvetti had brought vengeance and retaliation into his sanctuary. Vengeance in the form of this blond cop who crackled with violence and shook with the effort to hold himself back from lunging headfirst at him.

Joey let the cold eyed cop see that his hands were empty and placed on the desk in front of him. He looked directly at the tall blond and tried to keep his face and expression neutral. One miscalculated move on his behalf could be lethal for him.

Joey didn't want to go down with the law for this mess. He didn't want to carry the shit bucket that Calvetti had handed him. But nor did Joey want to die. Nor did he want a bullet in his body. It just wasn't on his wish list for the evening. But also he knew that he was sitting in a prime position to fall prey to either of the two scenarios if he didn't conduct himself carefully with the maddened officer in front of him right now. The cop was struggling for control over what was barely concealed rage, sucking in large gulps of air as he fixed Joey with open hostility and wariness.

It seemed as though he stood there, pinning Joey with his lethal gaze and the threat of his weapon for minutes on end – whereas Joey knew it was only for the briefest of moments. Intuition made him speak first, calmly addressing the hovering threat before he walked any closer toward him.

"Officer - I will not resist or fight you. You don't need your weapon. I will give you my full co-operation."

"Fucking right you will! You'll fucking co-operate with me every step of the way! Stay there with your hands on the desk in front of you or I'll take out your wrist with a bullet."

He turned now and motioned to another officer behind him.

"Cuff him. I might need him to gain a pathway through this place in case he has staff armed in other parts of the house."

The other officer did as he was ordered while the blond cop addressed him again.

"I think you might know who I am. Detective Hutchinson, partner of David Starsky. I know that somewhere in this property you are holding him captive. You were expecting medication for him to be delivered isn't that right?"

"Yes I requested it earlier - phoned Calvetti to have it delivered as a matter of urgency by one of his guards."

"Well you got me instead. Now – clear and simple. Where is he? Where have you got my partner? Answer me now or I might just mistake a slight hand movement by you as an attempt to reach for your weapon. That could lead me to feel unnerved by your intent and I will put the first bullet in you."

"You don't need your gun Detective - though I know you won't believe me. I said I won't resist and I don't have any staff armed who are ordered to stand against you. I won't obstruct your efforts to help your partner. "

"Calvetti brought my partner to you didn't he? DIDN'T HE?" The contorted face of the cop screamed at him.

"Yes - yes he did...but..."

"Then you are pure scum just like him. You will pay for what you have done to him just like Calvetti will pay."

"You're wrong Officer… Your partner was simply dropped on me as a convenient hiding place for Calvetti. I asked for none of this - I had no part in any of this except to ask for medication to help your partner and to advise the stupid son of a bitch to lay off hurting him any further. I am not like Calvetti!"

Joey attempted to reason and subdue the crazed anguish he saw flourishing in the face of the blond.

"Look Detective Hutchinson...I'm sorry about your partner, I really am. He's in a very bad way and he needs medical help urgently. None of this – none of what you will see with your partner is of my doing. I want you to understand this officer. None of it."

The tall cop flinched at the words. He was already swinging back to the door.

"Forget the fucking talk will you! I don't need to hear your attempts to walk away with your tail between your freakin' legs! Where? Which room? Tell me...or I'll blow down every door! "

"There is a hall off to the right side of the entry hall. At the furthest end it swings to the right again. Last room at the end of that corridor. It is not locked now. There was one of my staff in with him earlier. She was helping to clean him up. She should have left his room by now, but she is unarmed and harmless."

Joey paused, hesitated before adding.

"I'm sorry officer. I'm truly sorry for what Calvetti did to your partner."

But his words were wasted. No ears were there to catch their mitigating tone. Somehow, Joey reasoned with himself, even if the cop had remained a second longer to hear his vehement and sad denial, the pure and utter vengeance in his face would not have been swayed.

The blond had already swept away, leaving Joey manacled and in the custody of the other officer who looked at him now with nothing but disdain and accusation. Disdain and accusation – a hell of a lot less than Joey feared he would be reading in the blond's face when next he had the misfortune of sharing body space with him again. If he could get off with just disdain he would be so lucky.

When the blond cop found his partner, Calvetti's tortured David, Joey feared for himself and everyone in this house.

His house. His property. He had the misfortune for being the last stop for the battered dark-haired cop and therefore by default he was guilty.

Judged and sentenced for a crime he never committed.

Blood on his hands. The blood of a cop.

Guilty for something he didn't do and had no part in at all.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The tall cop who only minutes earlier had smashed through two others opened another door.

The final door.

But this opening was devoid of the violence and the cracking force of the previous two invasions. This opening was slow, hesitant, and agonizingly careful. It was as though the entry to the room inside was a measured exercise in balancing fear and tentative hope.

And that is exactly as it seemed to him. That is exactly how he felt.

Quickly surveying the hall of doors and with Joey's instructions ringing in his ears, he had approached the designated doorway with almost mind-blowing trepidation. His head pulsed with a mixture of joyous relief and spine chilling terror. He wanted what was behind the door but he dreaded what he would find and how he would manage the end point.

Words of pray and pleading rang in his swimming head.

_Be alive, please be alive…._

_Don't be dead, don't be dead…_

_I couldn't cope with it. Couldn't cope if you're not alive. Please don't be cold and dead when I find you…I'm here now – here now finally._

And then he was.

Finally.

Back with his partner. At last.

The carefully opened door swung behind and the interior of the room and its contents were laid out in front of him, a narrow bed and its occupant the spotlighted feature.

The fear that had risen high in his chest, choking him with its harsh stabbing jags had slipped away – just enough. Slipped away to the point where he could try to assimilate the fact that his partner was now just in front of him. Now just a few scant feet away from him, from his reaching hands.

Lying on a bed – so still, so very quiet and so very very hurt.

He sensed it all immediately, even before he took in the visuals. His partner's pain and sickness rose up to assault his nostrils. Distant smells now washed away and veiled in disinfectant and soap still hung in the room – sweat, blood and body waste. Evidence of a body under assault.

With just a few steps he closed the sickening black chasm that had separated him from his partner for a seeming eternity. A separation that in real time he knew only stretched across days. But - when there is no knowing, only fear and diminishing hope, than Eternity qualifies itself very quickly.

Light blue eyes squeezed shut tightly and then flew open instantly as though struggling with the visual shock they were receiving as he staggered toward the bed, a harrowed cry, formless its despair ringing out in the silence of the room.

Unsteady big hands hovered over the huddled shape on the bed as though indecisive of where to lay themselves first. He brought one shaking hand down to make its first tremulous contact with the familiar shape and contours of his friend's face, touching gently and hurriedly to reassure himself of the reality of the situation.

His eyes were not betraying him. The body on the bed was that of his partner. He _was _real and he was alive – though terribly weak and horrifically damaged.

He moved his questing hands further, skimming down to pull back the light covers so that he could touch and assess the state of the broken and traumatized flesh and reaffirm with touch that the man beneath him was his best friend.

When the body jolted and squirmed beneath his more discerning, probing exploration, he jolted too, even more violently in response.

"Sssshhhh. It's me. I'm here. Here now with you. No one else, just me. No more hurt Star...Starsk...no more... safe, safe now babe... Oh God...Oh God. No more ..."

His words faltered and shattered into indiscernible sounds as rising emotion choked speech and synchronised breath.

With relief he felt that the feared response his initial handling had elicited in his friend had abated. Broken jagged words spoken by a broken jagged soft voice had seemed to have calmed the body beneath his hands.

He returned to his assessment of his semi conscious partner, forcing himself to catalogue the extent of his injuries. The searing scorching bite of fevered flesh and felt the dampness of sticky raw wounds oozing with serous blood and pus. Blue eyes wild with anger now danced over the myriad of bruises and welts, cuts and gashes, puffy distorted contours and features. Unconsciously his discerning police eye objectively picked out the injuries caused by the human hand and fist and those inflicted by a weapon or object such as a belt or whip.

The body before him was a living representation of violence and assault, ravaged and disfigured by the impact of sustained brutal force. But the body was the one that was achingly familiar to him – and it still held life and breath. The body was struggling for each short ragged intake of oxygen, but it still breathed and the hope and sheer wonderment of the sign of life was enough to bring his own breath to a complete standstill.

A tearing moan and a shuddering coarse of shivers from the man in front of him was enough to snap him back to the moment. He wrenched his own coat off rapidly and draped it carefully over the quaking body, pulling the light bedlinen up higher to cover bare legs and a waist far leaner than it was only a week earlier.

Taking only a second he pivoted quickly to the doorway and yelled loudly down the hall to the sound of scuffing feet and shouts from other officers, their words almost lost with the approaching shrill of the ambulance siren screaming in the near distance.

"Down here! We're down here! Get the medics in here straight away when they hit the house!"

He didn't wait to catch their responses, leaping back instantly to his post beside his partner.

Heedless now of what damage he might do by moving him, he gave in to his instinctual need to gently wedge himself beneath the writhing fevered body, maneuvering himself to provide human padding and warmth as he wrapped his long arms as carefully as he could around his friend. He needed so badly to squeeze and pull tight but forced himself to provide only the lightest of strongholds. Willed himself to hold back on the comfort he himself was aching to extract from the body he held.

One of the two officers who had been at Reed's apartment with him charged into the room stopping short at the sight of the two men.

Gasping at the presentation of the ravaged body on the bed and the expression on his blond colleague's face he stayed back.

"Oh my God! Jesus look at him!….Is he…is he?"

"Yes…but he's so cold. I need some more covers for him. Rip this house apart will you and bring me some blankets."

"Sure – I'll see what I can find. I will be back as soon as I can, hold on."

He didn't notice that the other officer had even left and truth be known his head jerked up from its scrutiny of the face beneath him when he felt another presence in the room and the faint scent of perfume. Already he had begun to let his guard down – his guard almost exclusively directed to the body in his arms.

"Here – I have some more blankets for him now. I was going to get more when you arrived. He was hot before, but his fever is raging all over the place and the other linen was soaked through. Here…"

The feminine voice spoke. He spared only the briefest glance away from the bundle in his arms to take in the woman who stood near him, proffering soft clean blankets.

"Stay how you are. You don't need to move. I'll cover him."

And he did stay.

He allowed her to lightly drape the soft edges of the covers about his friend's battered chest and shoulders, choosing not to dislodge his own arms and hands which remained in contact at all times with his partner's skin.

For the briefest of seconds his body tensed protectively around the naked form beneath his jacket and sheet when her arm reached toward him with the blankets. But her movements and her manner only sought to comfort, so he allowed her close enough to do what she needed for him.

For them both.

The look on her face spoke of her desire to provide some sort of small solace for both of them. Her careful efficient movements to position the blanket brought her close enough to the fair headed man to see the shock in his face and to feel the tension in his tight protective hold on the body he had wrapped himself around.

He was crooning in soft tones as his hands stroked the bleeding puffy face, repeating a word or perhaps a name she did not recognise over and over. She had known of the victim as 'David' but this was not the name the tall man used now.

"Starsk...Starsk..Starsk. I am here with you. I am here now. Safe - no more pain. No more pain Starsk. I've come to take you home at last. Away from the pain. You don't have to wake up - just rest and sleep while I hold you."

She knew that the grieving blond man didn't notice her at all really.

He didn't see the pity in her eyes or catch the slight sheen of tears on her cheeks that told of her own relief that the battered man was now safe and being cared for by another.

The hold that he had about his friend was a desperate warm hope in the small gloomy cold room.

She wondered if his hold would be enough.

Enough to allow Calvetti's victim to hold on to life.

She could hear the escalation of shouts filling the halls in the front of the house, the activity levels in the distance increasing with the influx of more patrol cars and the unmistakable arrival of the ambulance. The two men on the bed were oblivious to her. One because his body was so broken physically he could never realize her presence, the other because his entire focus was channeled toward the broken man in his arms.

She quietly withdrew from the room leaving them both to their own fate while she went out to meet her own.

As she pondered the scenario she had just left behind her she intercepted the rush and the push of the arriving paramedics in the hall outside.

The wait for medical help was over.

The two cops' reunion was just beginning and she felt a little rush of sentimental euphoria for the both of them.

She was surprised how much she wished she could have been able to witness the fair-haired partner of the injured cop's face light up if and when the curly-haired cop was able to wake up enough to acknowledge him.

After tonight she would always carry the memory of one man's face that reflected pure grief and fear - and a pair of sad cornflower blue eyes that stared achingly into a beaten, bruised and unresponsive face.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	24. Chapter 24

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue **

**Chapter 24**

* * *

Experience had taught him that paramedics were not fond of having cops crowding their scene while they worked on their victims.

Experience had taught him to expect resistance from them when he tried to stay as close to Starsky as he could while they went about their assessment of him and any immediate treatment. Trouble was, experience didn't make it any easier for him.

God knew he had enough field practice with this sort of scenario that he should have been prepared for what was expected of him when the medics first hit the scene. But he failed to follow through yet again with best case practice.

Letting go of Starsky and permitting others to break into their private tableau of reunion, was an insurmountable difficulty for Hutch. Even when the people trying to get him to relinquish his stronghold clinch on his partner were the very people who needed to be with him now. The only people who could really help him.

His touch, his hold and all of his storehouse of hope and caring would not be enough to help Starsky now. Intellectually he knew that. Emotionally he didn't want to believe it.

Finally he let go and gently disengaged himself from beneath the flushed, shivering body.

Skilled and efficient hands moved in quickly to take his place and to lay the bruised and damaged body down flat.

One of the small team took the time to move Hutch off to the side completely so the other medics could do their work. Hutch didn't want to see the look in her face - to see the objective assessment she was now making of him as well as the patient. Looking at him like he too was in need of some medical attention. Strength had to be pulled up from somewhere deep inside of him now in order to keep moving forward. He had found Starsky, he was in the hands of the medics now - and that achievement was almost enough to have him stumbling to a stop, any forward momentum halted while he stood still in time to be with his partner.

But he couldn't allow himself that luxury just yet.

The distorted half face of a man with smooth elocution burned behind his eyes and curled his fists.

A window of opportunity existed and Hutch was determined to climb through it. Calvetti had to be his and within the next few hours otherwise Hutch feared that the slow burn in him would ignite and consume him completely. As he watched the limp body of his best friend being handled, turned gently and rolled whilst packs were placed lightly on wounds, injections were administered and vital signs were recorded, the slow burning flame flickered and danced within him.

The medics were assessing the seeping knife wounds on Starsky's chest and making a medical commentary on the inflictions. Their voices and actions dimmed into the background as Hutch found himself recalling the horror he felt when he watched the film of Calvetti's slow and methodical torture of his partner. And here in front of him now was the graphic physical evidence of what Starsky had endured. The images had been almost too hard to bear and now he could see and touch the damage done to his partner. Hutch's head was beginning to pulse, his vision dimming a little around the edges.

A frozen still shot of Calvett pressing the hot knife into Starsky seared his brain and all at once the room was too crowded and the air too thin. Before the creeping dizziness could mount any further Hutch pulled himself up suddenly, snapping his body into motion.

"I need to make a call - I saw a phone in the next room. I will only be gone a short while so please don't leave without me being able to see him into the ambulance. Please..."

The medic nodded and looked understanding.

"You've got some time. We need to get him sorted out some before we move him."

With one last look at the still unresponsive Starsky, Hutch moved toward the door. He pushed down the weakness that memory of the film had caused and re-embraced the flickering flames of rage.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Hutch dealt with the preliminaries quickly. Dobey had already had a brief report from one of the other officers concerning what had so far transpired at Joey's house. His first words for his blond sergeant were ones of support in the face of what had happened to Starsky and Hutch could hear the relief in the gruff voice.

"Captain? Yes the medics are with him now. I know...I...he's a mess Cap'n, he's really..." choking on a strangled word he took a deep breath. Calvetti has really - "

He lifted the phone piece away from his mouth, not trusting himself to go on. The bridge of his nose received what was another severe and lengthy squeeze in what was a long series of severe squeezes and constant rubbing since this whole thing had commenced.

He could hear Dobey's insistent, concerned voice floating up to him and brought the phone back up again.

"Yeah...I know. I know...if we hadn't had the lead from the guard to connect us up to this place I don't know how much longer Starsky could have lasted like this. Look I don't have all that long because I want to get to the hospital with the ambulance. Cap'n - you know I want Calvetti. Soon - now - tonight. We will need to use this house. You can arrange to have Joey and his crew here taken in, but I'll need Joey later to make a call to Calvetti, and I'll need a couple of his men to help set up Calvetti. Make sure this house is left without any signs that we've paid a visit tonight. I want him to come here some time soon and not pick up on a police invasion."

"Ok ok...all I need from you is to ensure that you keep a couple of black and whites and their officers very close to this house but tucked away. Have a some officers stuck on two of Joey's men who operate the front entrance in case Calvetti decides to pay an unscheduled visit and realizes that the whole situation has changed. I need time to get to the hospital with Starsk and see what the Docs have to say about his condition. I need that time Captain but I also want you to promise me that I'm the one who will bring in Calvetti. You know he's mine Cap'n. We'll talk later when I reach the hospital. Until then I don't know when I can get back to the station and meet with you."

Crashing the phone back down he returned quickly to the room where the medics were now preparing to move his partner.

"We're about to load him into the ambulance Detective. We've done all we can do for him here now."

The two medics were wheeling the Starsky out of the room and into the corridor and Hutch walked slowly beside the moving gurney, bleak concern clearly evident in his furrowed features. As another medic adjusted the gurney in preparation to lift it into the ambulance Hutch took his opportunity to reach out one last time to touch Starsky's battered cheek and brow. An oxygen mask now covered some of the bruised face and powerless to stop himself carry out what probably seemed like a futile movement , Hutch reached forward to gently readjust the elastic strap, moving it a little away so that it no longer cut a particularly nasty looking cut the grazed and shadowed cheekbone.

"I'll still here Starsk. Here buddy. They're taking you to the hospital now and I'll be there with you when you arrive. Not long now and all of this pain will be gone and you'll be able to wake up and talk to me. They are putting you in the ambulance now buddy. I can't come with you this time. I'll just be in the way - but I will be driving along beside you and I'll see you at the hospital."

He kept his hand in place on the cheek, hoping that voice and touch might somehow transmit themselves to the dormant figure.

One of the medics was looking at him and he supposed that they thought it strange that he was talking steadily away to an apparently unconscious man. But then as the gurney was hoisted and up and away from him, leaving his arm and hand trailing away and then dropping uselessly to his side, Hutch was surprised to feel a touch on his shoulder. It offered him no consolation and he looked down with dull eyes at the gestured hand as though he would rather it not be there - as though it had no right to be there.

A wash of dislocated feeling flooded through him and he wanted badly to get past feeling like this.

"It's important that you kept talking to him. He probably knows you're there - even though he doesn't respond he's may be conscious enough to be aware of voices and touch. That could have been very helpful to him."

Hutch gave only a light nod. The hollow words sounded patronizing and superficial to him and he was a little disgusted in himself for considering this medic's homilies to be cliched.

But days of aching worry and uncertainty had honed his impatience and lowered his threshold for anything that didn't bring him something conclusive and sharp. Starsky's plight and the fear of his welfare had left him with only enough room for the absolute essential interchanges.

"He knows I'm here."

And when it looked at though the man was about to say something else, Hutch cut him off with an abrupt,

"Get him there safely. That's a bad road in the dark. I will meet the ambulance there."

There was a surprised look on the other man's face at the blunt conviction as he watched the tall blond detective walk back toward the entrance of the house.

Hutch simply nodded and walked away back toward the entrance of the house. He would allow himself a limited amount of time to tidy up with Joey and his staff and give some orders over to the patrol officers about taking Joey in and leaving two men to wait at the house to show Calvetti in when he hopefully fronted back up to take up the offer to have one last meeting with Starsky - his precious "David."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"So how do you want to handle this? He's still in the interrogation room, waiting on his lawyer."

Dobey was weighing up the look on his detective's face as he posed the question to him, trying to gauge how much leeway he still had left to get Hutchinson to work with him and not against him on this one. The man known as Joey had been so far nothing short of co-operative and low-key and Dobey was keen to capitalize on his generous mood. He didn't want the Hutchinson to go in all hot-headed and blow the situation apart. Hutch had returned from the hospital only minutes earlier and had grudgingly accepted some of the other officer's solicitous offers to bring him coffee and sandwiches.

His captain was giving him the beady eye now as he prompted him with the plate of small triangles of an unappetising sandwich.

"Eat as well as drink. I'm tired of trying to keep you from killing yourself with exhaustion. It's not my damn job to nag you like this. But God help me someone has to. If Starsky was here..."

Dobey had said it more to arouse the flat almost crestfallen face than to upset him. Something needed to be done to lift him up from the despondency that hung on his stooped shoulders since he'd returned from the hospital.

"But Starsky's not here is he? He's probably right about now waiting to go into the O.R because some fuckhead psycho has abused the shit out of him for the past few days and left him three-quarters dead. And - I won't know for hours yet how he's going to be or..."

"Hutch - he'll be ok. They would have told you otherwise. They wouldn't have left you leave the hospital if there was any likely risk of him - "

Dobey swiped at his sweaty face with his damp handkerchief for what must have been the tenth time in the past ten minutes.

"No Starsky's not here. But you are and you need to keep going so you seal this whole case up and shelve it - for Starsky's sake. And if Starsky was here as I was saying, he would have polished off that entire plate three times by now."

Finally a slight curve of the lips rewarded Dobey's blustering efforts to make things just a little better for Hutch.

"I'm sorry Cap'n but you are totally wrong there. Starsk wouldn't touch this poor excuse for food. White cardboard bread and limp lettuce is hardly what he calls food. So don't try to pull that one on me."

Dobey was pleased enough with the small spark.

"Anyway - get that coffee down you before you go near that interrogation room. You don't want the one man who can bring Calvetti to us to see that you're ready to drop. You need to play this one just right Hutch - don't push him in the wrong way. Sit there and get yourself calmed and settled enough to deliver it just so we get Joey to do what we need him to do."

Hutch shoved one last corner of the dry bread in his mouth and threw back the bitter brewed coffee to wash it down. He pushed impatiently at the plate and cup and stood up.

"I don't expect a problem with Joey. He made it quite clear already he wants to disassociate himself from his business buddy. It's not Joey's co-operation I'm concerned about. It's how good an actor he is that is the real problem. Calvetti is no dumb ass. He'll twig immediately to anything not solid in Joey's spiel. Getting him back to Joey's depends on how he is still feeling about his ownership of Starsky and how valid Joey's story is going to sound to him."

Picking up a pad of paper and pen Hutch moved to leave the room.

"Can we stall a little longer on his lawyer's meeting - see if you can keep them out till we work out some strategy?"

They had walked together to the door of the interrogation room before Hutch turned to his Captain.

"Cap'n - you interrupt me, you get me, if there is any call from the hospital or change in Starsky's condition ok?"

"Hutch - you need to tell me that?"

"Sorry Cap'n - I'm just..."

"I know, I know. Now get in there and do your Hutchinson smooth talking act so we can move on this thing and all get home for some much needed sleep. My wife and kids are ready to kill me if I have another day like the last few."

As Hutch closed the door behind him, Dobey left to enter the other room to watch the proceedings through the one way glass.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Joey put up no obstruction to co-operating with the cops.

He remained ensconced in the interrogation room with the blond detective who had dogged his tail ever since he had busted into his house earlier that evening. He was thankful that for now Hutchinson had dropped any further strong arm tactics when he had agreed to play his part in drawing Calvetti out into the open.

Joey was expected to cast the line that would bring in an even bigger catch than he. Hutchinson wanted him to reel Calvetti in and Joey was feeling some performance anxiety. Not that he doubted his ability to pull the whole act off. The anger and frustration he harbored for Calvetti and the shit he had landed him was real enough that he wouldn't be acting. But the fact that the bait he was going to use was the partner of the very agitated Hutchinson left him feeling more than uneasy. He would have preferred that the watchful blond cop left him alone to make the contact with Calvetti - but it was clearly evident that Hutchinson was not going to move.

"When I do this Detective...when I talk to him...you've got to understand that I will say things that you might not want to hear about your partner. Just so you know. It's how we would talk about ...about.. subjects. So don't - don't - react to what you hear me say. Otherwise he'll know."

He watched Hutchinson grind his jaw and stab mercilessly at the notepad in front of him with the pen until he had gouged out a small hole.

"Just make the damn call will you? Let me handle myself."

With a phone by his side and some sketched out notes in front of him Joey got ready to place the call. He was trying not to show his discomfort at Hutch's proximity, and diverted his own gaze elsewhere so that he did not have to see the intense blue eyes watching his every small move. But to his dismay the cop bumped his arm drawing his own eyes back to his watchful face. He understood then that the cop wanted to be able to communicate to him non-verbally during the call.

After only a couple of rings Calvetti picked up and Joey queued for his performance, the pent-up cop beside him his singular, attentive audience.

"Joey? Two calls in one night? From a man who made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing more to with me until I came to pick up my subject again. Was there a problem with the delivery of the drugs and meds? My man assured me that he would have it covered."

"No your guard got the stuff to us alright, in fact he brought a load of stuff. But, Calvetti - that is why I'm calling you. The drugs are useless. Most of them are tablets and shit, and even though there was a couple of injections - how the hell are we supposed to know what he needs and when and how often? Last time I looked Calvetti, I didn't have a freaking DR. in front of my name. First you dump a half dead cop on me and then you expect me to play nursemaid and doctor to him."

"You said you wanted drugs. You said David needed them. You got them. Now you're moving the posts again Joey. Are moving the posts on me? Are you trying to step out of this arrangement?"

"Listen Calvetti. Not even a truckload of drugs is going to help your smashed up cop now. He's dehydrated and full of fever. Infection in his wounds, busted ribs so he can't breath properly and you smashed his head so hard I don't even know if he'd regain consciousness. He is beyond it. If you hadn't gone back for that last round - if you'd just left my place without going to him again for your brutal goodbye message, I wouldn't be making this call. I might have been able to salvage something I could have used myself in my stable. He looks like he would have been a fine piece of flesh and he would have meant good money for me."

The sudden jolt and hiss beside him nearly stopped his flow but he kept going. Calvetti needed to be convinced so he continued on.

"But no - you've destroyed any chance of me being able to use him now. I know for a fact I could have sold him for a good price. I have two buyers waiting for a piece of ass like his right now. He's probably the best piece of flesh you've brought me in a while and you had to go and mess him up completely. You left your mark too deep on this one too deep and too late for anyone not medically trained to help him..."

Joey needed to look away from the clenching jaw of the detective and to block out the fury in his glacial eyes as he heard the content of the exchange.

_Don't fuck this up cop. Don't make me lose my place or my game here by taking this out on me. Look away from me and leave me finish this without crucifying me with your eyes...this is not my doing I told you. I have to say this stuff to make Calvetti take the bait._

Joey pushed on in an effort to not get distracted by the threatening vibes beside him.

"Calvetti. He's going to die. He's going to die very soon and even if you get him to a hospital I think it will be too late for your David. I'm ringing you now because I know he's important to you in your fucked up wierd way you get with these subjects of yours. Am I right Calvetti? Is your David that important to you?"

Joey waited, suspended between his own knot of tension and the concrete like tension of the man beside him. This was the crucial pivoting point. This was all they had to lure the monster back in. This is what the cop sitting beside him needed and wanted. Otherwise Joey feared, Hutchinson would break through the barrier that was just managing to hold him at bay. With only a few physical inches between him and that barrier Joey didn't care for it to be breached. He hoped he had the sick sadist Calvetti worked out well enough to have called this whole thing correctly.

"You really think he's that close? I only saw him hours ago..when I left him..."

"When you left him you were a frenzied beast and didn't even know what you'd done to him. You're like this Calvetti. You don't know when to pull back and stop. If you want to keep doing business with me and for me to cover your damn tracks on this fuck-up then I want you to come here. You can say your goodbyes to this poor sonofabitch and help me work out what we're going to do with one dead homicide detective. I'll even let you leave him here for me to take care of Calvetti - but I won't clean it up alone. You have to be in on this too. We need to be tight on this one - he's not one of your homeless drug addicts you've pulled out of a dirty alleyway. He's hot enough to burn right through both of our little empires. You hearing me Calvetti...?"

There was only silence on the other end of the phone and Joey took in a much needed breath and for the first time shared a look of uncertainty with the man beside him. When the silence continued Joey prompted some more.

"Look - I don't give a damn if you don't want to come kiss him goodbye but I'm telling you, either way you'll be coming to work the angles out of this sorry situation and its fallout, am I clear? Because when he dies our deal is off and you owe me for services rendered."

"I want to see him. Maybe when I spend some time with him he will pull through it. He's a strong-willed character Joey - exceptional in his mental strength. My presence might be all he needs."

At this statement Joey didn't even need to feign - he snorted with disgust.

" Jesus Christ! That's what I should be calling you! You are one piece of egotistical arrogance! What do you aim to do to bring him back from the brink of death? I don't think a few more lashes or another knifing is going to rouse him up from death's door this time. All the mental strength in the world isn't going to help a body that has been done over like you did him over. But - well - come and see him if you want. You can play your God games with him all you like. Command him to live if you think you have the power. But make it soon."

Joey was pressing him now. He knew he was expected to get something solid and affirmative. The arm beside him now moved and he looked down to see that Hutchinson had urgently scribbled down a few words. Reading them Joey pressed some more.

"In fact - I need you to commit to a time Calvetti. I have a big showing tomorrow evening and I need to get organised for the auction. We need this shit sorted out now. There's not much left of this night. I need you to come within an hour. No later than an hour Calvetti. I will have one of my men at the front gate and he will take you straight down to David's room. You can do whatever you need to with him - he's all yours now. Dead or alive when you get here - all yours. Then once you've seen him you can make your way to my office and we can talk."

"I'll do my best to be at your place within the hour. I'm quite a distance from you now. But I will be there."

"You'd better be Calvetti - or I'll come looking for you, hauling one dead cop behind me to leave at your feet this time."

Joey hung up first, taking the firm stance of control by having the last word.

Hutchinson was looking at him with a look that Joey couldn't discern. It wasn't admiration - Christ no. Nor gratitude - not after what he had to say about his friend being a fine piece of sex flesh. But it was something different, tangible and slightly better than how he had been regarding him earlier.

And as Hutchinson nodded firmly at the one way window to acknowledge to the others watching that a successful outcome had been reached, Joey found a label for the look in the Detective's eyes and face.

He was wrong. The look wasn't for him at all. It was for the man with whom he had just finished the call.

An unmistakable look, an unmistakable quality of emotion.

Anticipation.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS


	25. Chapter 25

**Only If His Eyes are Blue**

**Chapter 25**

* * *

For close on an hour Hutch had hovered near the main entrance of the house waiting for some sort of signal from Joey's guard at the front gate. Another of Joey's men was stationed near the house itself, his two-way radio crackling and buzzing as he kept abreast with any action or signal that might show that their quarry had fronted. Pete Bradshaw who had expressed to Dobey his wish to remain involved with the case ever since he had been brought into it after the bust on Calvetti's home, and one uniform cop were inside the house with Hutch. Bradshaw was doing his best to absorb the ever-increasing tension in his colleague who seemed to be spiraling toward some sort of pinnacle, some endpoint of tolerance and containment.

Bradshaw felt his own anxiety mounting.

"Come on, try to relax. He'll be here Ken. He'll front. Joey threw down the ultimatum to him. From what we know of his obsession with Starsky and the caliber of the business relationship between him and Joey…it's highly likely that he will show his face before the night is out. He really can't afford not to."

"And if doesn't…and he goes under too deep for us to find him, crosses the border - shit, skips the fucking country? What if this isn't enough to drag him in and I lose him?"

"He's not going to do that Ken. There's no indication that he suspects Joey has blown him, no indication that he suspects anything. He'll be here. The sick bastard will be here so he can see Starsky again."

"Christ I hope you're right Pete. I want him. I want him tonight, right now. I need to …"

"Ken! I know…I understand. We all understand. I know you think …" Bradshaw knew they were both remembering how Hutch had latched out at him during the interrogation of Calvetti's guard." "Look I know you think I don't get what you're going through, but - "

"Pete – its not that I think that – hell its just…I need to do this...for me. For Starsky."

The two cops shared a long look and there passed between them unspoken words of heavy intent.

_Leave the words unspoken Ken. Don't tell me what you need to do with Calvetti. Don't say them. I don't want to hear them – I can't hear them. You're a cop and so am I. _

Hutch pulled back from dangerous ground, grateful for the other cop's perceptive interpretation. His lips closed tight over utterances that they both knew he wanted to make. He would keep the words inside but he couldn't do the same with the wrath that was straining to be released.

He went back to his ceaseless pacing of the front rooms of the big house and made his way down the corridor to the room where Starsky had been held. The room where he intended to wait for Calvetti - if and when he showed up.

Even standing just inside of the room was more than he could bear.

His eyes were drawn to the bed, the bed where Starsky had been lying when he found him. It featured there in the center of the room, a representation of his partner's ordeal; undisturbed from how it had been left when the medics had taken Starsky away hours ago. The crumpled bed sheets were pulled aside, the tousled blankets were strewn haphazardly across its narrow width, and the thin pillow, its case stained by dried blood, still seemed to hold the indentation of Starsky's head.

_Like a fucking altar!_

An altar where his partner lay brutalized and vulnerable – offered up to a depraved and merciless personality whose crazed mind was filled with ideas of complete ownership, complete dominance of Starsky's strong and resilient personality.

Hutch didn't want to look at it - the bed, the soiled linen, the room in its entirety. It was all anathema to him. It was all evidence of Starsky's captivity and pain. It was all evidence of what he had been unable to prevent from happening to Starsky.

It was all evidence of what he owed the man he was waiting for.

_I owe you so much Calvetti... I owe you such much pain and suffering._

The debt lay heavy and sickening in his heart and guts.

Hutch wanted so desperately to pay him back and turned his mind away from the inner voice of conflict, the constraint of justice.

As he stood looking into the room, Hutch thought about justice and its many forms.

"_And how do you decide who is corrupt and deserving of your own form of justice?"_

…_Calvetti's words to Starsky, emblazoned in his memory…the sounds and the images, would they be in his head forever? Could he ever erase them? Would hurting Calvetti erase them, even help to erase them? Would… killing Calvetti erase them completely? _

He was still thinking about it when Bradshaw entered the room behind him. He startled, as though Bradshaw had just read his thoughts and had found him culpable for something he had not yet even begun. Something that his subconscious and body had been contemplating ever since he had sat in Huggy's small side office and watched the monstrosity that was Calvetti inflicting untold misery and pain upon Starsky.

"He's here! Calvetti has fronted. He's at the gate now. Joey's man is about to go out to get him and supposedly bring him in here to Starsky's room for his last visit.…he's just waiting on your word."

Bradshaw paused carefully and looked directly at Hutch's face.

"This is your call Ken. How do you want to do it? You want to nab him when he gets inside the house or….."

"No. Let him think he's going to see Starsky. Let them bring him down to this room. I'll take him here when he comes in. I want to be able to see his face Pete – I want to be the one to tell him that it's all over for him. Let me have this Pete. OK? You knew I would want it like this."

"Yeah I knew. You going to be ok with this? With Calvetti? "

Hutch hesitated for only a moment before dipping his hand into his back pocket and pulling out the small leather holder that contained his badge. With a similar quick fluid movement he removed his gun and held both out to Bradshaw.

The other cop looked down at the gun and badge and back up at Hutch.

"This doesn't change anything for you, you realize that? Handing me these doesn't change a thing, you have to remember that."

"To me it does. Take them both. I'm here now as a friend and a partner, not as a cop. I think we understand each other. You can give them back to me later – your decision Pete."

"That's a hell of a lot to ask of me."

"I would have preferred it didn't happen this way - didn't leave you pushed into a corner - but that is how it played out. I'm sorry."

"OK…OK…but I want to be able to hand these back to you when you leave this room Ken. I don't want to be left holding these …."

Hutch said nothing more just turned and made his way to the hard backed chair in the corner of the room.

" Get Joey's men to frisk him properly before he enters the house. Tell them to show him in and wait outside. That goes for you too Pete. I'm asking you that much. Wait outside and don't come in. I don't want you in here...unless..."

"Unless what? What do you want me to do here Ken?"

"I just want you to leave us alone and not come back into this room. Not until this is …..finished."

Bradshaw cursed softly, looked down at the other man's gun and badge in his hands, but then finally just nodded.

"Alright. I 'll give the signal to let him in. But Ken…. remember Starsky is waiting back at that hospital and when he comes to after surgery, he's going to be expecting to see you sitting there beside him. You want to be able to do that don't you? Keep that thought in your mind when we let Calvetti into that room."

With that Bradshaw was gone. He walked toward the entrance to give Joey's man his instructions and to move himself and the uniform out of sight.

He remembered the absolute intention on Hutchinson's face when he had handed him his badge and gun. As he and the other officer took their positions to the side of the entrance, he wondered whether his own words about Starsky waiting would be enough to sway that intention.

For both of their sakes he hoped so.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The low wattage bulb afforded only the gloomiest light in the shadowed room but Hutch's eyes had adjusted to it as he sat waiting. In contrast to the weak low energy lighting, his own electrical system was on overdrive, every nerve in his body was alive and firing.

When the man entered the dim room from the brightly lit corridor, the door closing firmly behind him, it was obvious that he was struggling to accommodate his vision to the contrast.

It gave Hutch a precious opportunity to take his first look at Calvetti in an unguarded moment. He wouldn't have been surprised if his sudden sharp intake of breath was the first thing that alerted Calvetti to his presence. The well-dressed and stiffly held Calvetti swung his head from the empty bed to the corner of the room from where he had located the sound. Hutch was waiting for the moment when it dawned upon him – when he realized what he had walked in upon.

"Hello Calvetti. It's really very late but I waited up for you."

The slick composure slipped just a fraction as the scarred face looked about the room once more as if doubting his own perception. In the shadowed light Hutch thought he might have discerned a look of shock. He wanted to think so. He wanted to shock Calvetti - shock him hard.

"David is gone. He's…? Is he…?"

Hutch flinched at the implied hesitancy. Was he asking whether Starsky was dead?

"Is he what Calvetti? Say it… Go on ask the question. Please. I want to hear you ask me."

Calvetti seemed to relax marginally at Hutch's demanding tone.

"So this is all a complete set up. You've taken him."

Hutch unfolded his long body carefully, almost slowly as he rose to a stand and move a few steps closer to the shadowed man.

Calvetti stood his ground.

"No – you were asking me a question. When you first came in and saw the bed empty… you got a shock. You were trying to ask me whether Starsky was …..what was it Calvetti? What were you going to say?"

"Alright. You want to play your game Detective. You want to put me on the defensive? Joey informed me that David was in a critical condition. Obviously that was all a fabrication on his behalf so that he could conspire with you to get me to come here. Was that just a lie to get me here or is there some truth in the statement?"

"You tell me what condition you think my partner might be in right now Calvetti. Go on. I'm sure you must have some idea. After all it was you who left him here many hours ago nearly beaten to death. Had you forgotten that you had left him like that Calvetti?"

"No Detective…I am not one who forgets anything. I remember everything about David – he is a special subject, a very special subject. I would have liked more time with him. One more opportunity to –"

Of its own accord his hand snaked out and grabbed Calvetti by his shirtfront.

" He is not your 'Subject' you fucking freak. He is a person, he is my partner. My partner you fucking hear me you motherfucking bastard! You nearly killed him. You beat him and tortured him and tried to break him down mentally. He's long gone from this nightmare – far away from here and far away from you. You will never, NEVER, get the opportunity as you call it, to see or talk to him, much less lay your filthy hands on him again. "

"I have my memories of the challenges he posed for me. He was a worthy subject, a strong and willful subject. My memories and my experiences – they will always be with me."

Both men had adjusted enough to the muted light for them to read each other's expressions. Ice cold blue lasers stared wildly at the skewed face – one half almost calmly composed against the onslaught of the frigid stare, the other contorted and twisted into a caricature of evilness.

"Memories? Of course you do Calvetti! Your memories get a boost every time you let your disturbed mind watch the footage you filmed of what you did to him. You like watching that shit over and over don't you Calvetti? Gives your soft cock a thrill doesn't it?"

Calvetti gave a small sneering smirk.

"Ah - obviously my employees are not so faithful after all. I am learning that no one is to be trusted. That is how you tracked me here isn't it? Through Reed? I asked him to secure the tapes and films for me. So did you enjoy what you saw Detective? Did you like watching your partner with me? How did it make you feel Hutchinson, to see him so overpowered, so controlled?"

Hutch increased his twisting grip on Calvetti's shirtfront and collar, bringing his face in so close to the other man's he could see the striations and the silver puckers in the ravaged scars. He could hear his own labored breathing as he fought to quell the increasing tension in his muscles and chest.

"Don't mistake physical abuse for control and overpowering Calvetti. You would never control Starsky. That is why you became so obsessed with him. You could beat him and hurt him while he was in a captive situation, weakened and compromised. But that is not control. Yes I saw the footage. I saw some of what you and your creeps did to him. But in any of it there was no control of Starsky by you. Making someone bleed and suffer doesn't mean you have control over their mind."

"Ah – then you mustn't have seen the wonderful heart rendering scenes where I informed him that you and the police department assumed he was dead. I gravely told him that you believed him to be burned to a cinder when a body closely resembling his had been planted in his torched car. "

"You did what? You – you fabricated some – some bullshit story about him showing up dead? Starsky wouldn't have bought that – he just wouldn't."

Hutch's shallow breathing became quicker, louder and his strangled voice was strained and stuttering. Rigidity and tension in his forearms was becoming almost painful – his hands squeezing and twisting the fabric of Calvetti's shirt till the friction burned his fingertips. With almost morbid objectivity Hutch watched as the color in Calvetti's face began to change to a purplish hue, his oxygen supply cut off my the stranglehold on his collar. Still Calvetti did not attempt to move.

Hutch loosened his grip marginally to free his burning fingers. Calvetti coughed lightly and only then did he pull back away from the relentless grip. In a deft movement Hutch changed his hand position and hold on the man from his neck to his shoulder.

"You're wrong, very wrong Hutchinson. It wasn't difficult to convince him when he was so much already under my control. I had him pushed into a tight box where everything seemed insurmountable. It really was quite tragic to watch your partner give into his despair. When one takes away all of another's hope, it becomes easier to control that person."

For a moment Hutch looked into the near distance and closed his eyes against in anguish. His soft words were bereft and emotional.

"He thought I wasn't coming to get him. That I'd given up – accepted that he had gone…"

Calvetti smiled knowingly – pleased to have hit the spot where it hurt the blond the most.

Hutch attention snapped back to the man in his grasp.

"You made him think that I'd given up. You made him think there was no hope for him at all – that he was all alone."

"Yes, when he finally comprehended that you had given up looking for him, that you had thrown in the search or the hope of finding him, it was a beautiful example of me controlling the way he reacted and dealt with such personal loss. He realized that you thought he was dead – and it had a huge impact on him."

Calvetti's words were like an accelerant to an already blazing fire.

Hutch felt his own internal rage combusting, igniting.

He had tried very hard.

_Jesus I have been trying so hard since he first walked into the room._

Had he not fought against it with incredible resistance?

Had he not focused on Pete Bradshaw's parting words about Starsky waking up in hospital and expecting him to be there – be there beside him – not elsewhere – not in a cell?

He had been holding on with the last vestiges of his fragmenting reserves.

Holding on and managing. Exercising restraint. Limit setting. Upholding justice as was his job as a cop.

He had been managing to simply talk – just talk. Civilized talk to a sociopathic ruffian in a designer suit. To try just a little to understand this barbaric animal who had chosen his partner as an object to hurt and to maim.

But breathing through the rage was no longer a winning technique and nor was imagery of Starsky waking in the hospital to an empty chair. Other imagery was winning and it was far more powerful and far more gut wrenching. The imagery of Starsky's brutalized body, imagery of Calvetti's calculated torture of Starsky, images and sounds of Calvetti's taunts and threats as Starsky lay broken on the floor beneath him.

Brutalized Starsky.

Technicolor imagery.

Cinematic horror.

The imagery advanced - brighter, louder and closer. It mingled now with Calvetti's last provocation. A provocation certainly, but the truth also.

Hutch believed Calvetti's story of Starsky's fabricated death. He knew that Starsky would have been left stripped bare of all hope. Convinced that his partner had given up and believed him dead.

Calvetti's lies would have cut Starsky to the core two fold. Once to realize that Hutch was never going to save him from his hell and then a second time when he knew how much pain his partner would be going through when he believed it was his murdered body that had been found. To be left wounded, hurting and then grieving like that must have been enough to break Starsky's spirit completely.

Calvetti was correct.

He had won total control over his partner – psychologically and physically.

Calvetti used his one good eye to look directly into Hutch's appalled face, seizing the moment to drive home a victory.

" Do you know I do believe he cried when he thought you would no longer be looking and searching for him, when he believed that even you had given up on him?"

In his arms, starting from his shoulders and moving down through his upper arms and forearms, the tightness in his muscles grew – contracting, flexing, sliding on bone and pulling across joints. Physiologically of course he was not aware of it, but his body was sensing it, sensing its preparedness to use the machinery of his well oiled physical components to drive his limbs forward, his body forward, propelling his closed fist forward with sudden violent momentum.

In an upward arc his fist flew, poised perfectly for a targeted landing on the underside of Calvetti's jaw. The sound was unmistakable as bone and tight flesh met flesh and rigid jawbone – the crack and then the resounding snap of the head flying back and away from the neck. All over in an instant, so quickly, so powerfully effective at wreaking damage.

Calvetti's head snapped up and away but his body stayed more or less still – the impact that should have knocked him off his feet was useless against the stronghold that Hutch had on his other shoulder and neck. Holding him in place and before he had a chance to pivot and fall away from the blow, Hutch came at him again with a second even more ruthless blow, lower this time and hard into his lower belly. Short, sharp and vicious, he delivered two better-placed gut punches before Calvetti grunted and rolled away from the death grip that Hutch had relinquished for a second while he repositioned his stance.

Calvetti had fallen slightly to the side, sliding part way down the wall and glaring maniacally, almost curiously at Hutch with his one good eye.

Blood was trickling from his mouth and as he swiped casually at it he sneered.

"Didn't like to hear that about David did you Detective? Didn't like to hear that I could control David – hurt him and make him beg for mercy? He did you know? He cried that he wanted to go home? Do you know that? I could hear it clearly on the tape? Watched it over and –"

The words were knocked from his mouth literally as Hutch smashed his now bleeding fist into the distorted scarred mouth and nose with a full front on close - ranged blow. The taunting words stopped instantly to be replaced by a spurt of bright blood and a gurgling bubble of mucous blood from Calvetti's disjointed nose.

"I broke your fuckin' nose you fucking asshole. You motherfucking asshole. I'll smash every tooth in your head too if you don't shut your fucking dickhole of a mouth! You say his name one more time, one more time….I will rip your fucking tongue out of your scarred up face! You freak! You freak show! I should kill you for what you did to him. I want to kill you! Make me kill you – make me! Make me fucking KILL YOU! "

Calvetti snorted with contemptuous laughter and the effect had Hutch pulling back marginally on his tight grip of the flailing body. The lurid spectacle of a smashed up, scarred and twisted face, spurting blood and laughing diverted Hutch's attention for the split second it took for Calvetti to act.

Suddenly he was back on his feet, lightly and athletically springing to a steadier position. Hutch sucked in his breath – he should have known – should have realized that Calvetti had more than this to offer him. He had allowed Hutch to take the upper hand – he had seduced him into thinking he could easily overpower him with just brutish violence and vengeance.

Calvetti fought back now with his own arsenal – and his was a far more eloquent and choreographed act of personal combat. Instead of defending himself against Hutch it would seem that Calvetti had bided his time savoring the moment when Hutch was partly exhausted from his savage opening attack.

In a smooth fluidic action Calvetti's hand found Hutch's shoulder and neck and the intense burning needles of pain radiating down Hutch's arm had him swearing and dropping his right fist to his side. Calvetti brought his leg up high and the blow to Hutch's liver was pure excruciation. The pain of the contact and the need to double over to protect his tender center gave Calvetti open slather to chop down hard on the back of Hutch's exposed neck.

On the cold floor now, Hutch curled up to avoid the blow he knew was coming from Calvetti's sharp boot. At the last moment he rolled away and managed to push himself into a half sitting position. When Calvetti struck out again with a shout and curse, Hutch hooked his leg and brought him tumbling down beside him.

Too tired and too breathless for words now, their concentration focused entirely on attack and defence, the pair grappled and fought, rolled and pushed, pulled and stretched – Calvetti using different fighting tactics to those Hutch practised. Hutch found himself doubling his efforts of his entire repertoire of wrestling and street fighting to control the half faced monster who sneered and cursed him in breathy gusts while he delivered blows to have Hutch howling in agony.

Part of Hutch knew that Bradshaw was outside the door – he wasn't sure whether he had really heard him or if in fact it was the roaring in his ear from the last blow that Calvetti had landed across his ear. He didn't want Bradshaw or the other cop in here until this was done.

It would be done – it had to be. There was not one part of him that could allow Calvetti to walk out of this room with a look of victory on his misshapen face – victory for what he done to Starsky. He had to make Calvetti know that he would suffer as he had made Starsky suffer. Because he had made Starsky suffer.

Another blow rang through his ear and the resounding slapping sound was followed by Calvetti choking laugh as blood bubbled freely from his smashed in mouth. He labored over the words but he got them out.

"And... so now... Detective? Tell me. Do you - think ... you're stronger than me?"

Hutch heard the words but in his mind he saw the image and heard the other similar words directed at the bleeding mess of his partner on the floor of the small studio….

_"Answer my question….David. Do you think you're stronger than me? Does it look like you're strong now?_

It was enough for him. Enough to not only find the last reserves in his battered body but to call up fresh rage, fresh hatred and razor teethed vengeance.

Rolling over the top of the taunting, imperious man, Hutch made the transition to a secure straddle. He expertly encased Calvetti's wrists in a vice with a still strong left arm and hand while he simultaneously brought his bleeding right fist down with an almost primeval cry. The force of the blow was fuelled now by a deep, animal instinct - the human side of him lost to its dominance. Control slipped entirely from his grasp.

The hidden reserve had come from seemingly nowhere but Hutch knew it was always there, the part of him he had held in check. The part of him that he couldn't let loose in this room because it could mean that he had used his own brand of justice. A justice that went beyond the code of his being a cop.

But hearing him say those last words – almost the same words he had used against Starsky, broke the defenses down.

"I'm sorry Starsk…I'm sorry…but I can't let him have done that to you…."

He knew he was crying now – loud sobs as he continued with the blows, each one weaker than the last, but still finding a body of grunting, moaning flesh in which to bury his throbbing bleeding fist.

The face was no longer his target – so covered in slippery blood and mucous that his hand slid off with contact, he moved down lower to strike at the firm muscle bound chest and belly of the man who was now only barely conscious.

Energy levels were draining away rapidly – leaving him shaking and cold – but the body under him was still alive…. and his own body still with just enough drive to finish this job….

_"Until this is finished...don't come back into this room until this is finished..."_

His words to Bradshaw - words he meant.

And then the images invaded him again – the images of what he saw in the film with Calvetti and Starsky.

"Fucking get out of my head! I don't want to have to remember what he did to you Starsk! I want it to stop playing in my head! Make it stop now…"

He was crying in earnest now, and he couldn't be sure he wasn't crying the words out loud.

But Starsky voice from the film footage pushed its way through his own thoughts and words.

_"Do you feel proud of what you do and believe you are an asset to the law enforcement system David?"_

_"I do my best, win some lose some and yeah I'm proud of what I do every day. I could ask you the same question. Are you proud of what you do? Proud of what you're doin' now?"_

The raised trembling fist stopped in its descent. Hutch looked at it midway to its target and then looked at the target. The monster beneath him, the monster that had done so much damage to them both.

_"Are you proud of what you do? Proud of what you're doin' now?"_

He could hear his partner's question as though Starsky was beseeching him.

_No Starsk! No…but I'm doing it for you. I have to do it for you don't you see? Don't you see? Don't you understand?_

With a shuddering sob he sat back on his haunches and held his torn and throbbing fist in his left hand. Somehow, with muscles quivering and shaking from total exhaustion, he moved off the body and crawled painstakingly toward the wall where he fell heavily against its cool rigid support.

Consciousness was wavering for him as the shock entered and the adrenalin drained from his pain filled, bruised body. In the background, from the middle of the room, Calvetti's tortured breaths were almost in time with his own staccato gasps.

He slumped listlessly to the side and unintentionally his focus landed once more on the empty bed where only hours earlier he had found his friend – the friend and partner he had feared he had lost. Lost so soon after he had got him back from Marcus' people.

_"I stopped Starsky. I stopped before….. I won't give Calvetti the satisfaction of taking me away from you again. I keep losing you Starsky. You are never safe...Why can't I keep you safe? ...Marcus, now Calvetti... I want to be there Starsky. I want to be in the chair beside the bed when you wake up. Nowhere else. Just there. I'll be there…I promise you."_

Time passed. He could not be sure how much time had gone by because his dulled brain was capable of only measuring pain and distressed emotion. The rational cop side of him told him that it could not have been too long. Not too long because Bradshaw wouldn't have let time slip by when he no longer heard sounds emanating from inside the room in case…..in case….

"In case what?"

He thought he had been asking himself, but obviously not as Bradshaw's face swam into his vision and the other cop's firm grip came to steady his slumped and bleeding head.

"In case what Ken?"

"Oh... its you… well…in case …" He knew he sounded punch drunk and incoherent, but he needed to say it. Needed to express it to the other man.

" In case... I didn't remember to be proud of what I do…like Starsky asked me. In case …in case…I didn't decide that the most important thing was to be there for him when he woke up in hospital... You understand Pete?"

"Yeah…I think I do. You're a bit bloodied up here Ken, a bit bent out of shape. You might well be needing a hospital bed yourself you know that?"

"No. No. I'm stronger than him. Stronger than Calvetti. He said I wasn't…said Starsky wasn't. But we are. We are."

He nodded his head over at the softly groaning heap on the floor, the defeated form of Calvetti still lying in the center of the room where the fight had finally subsided.

Hutch shook his head gingerly and then clamped together his bleeding lips at the resultant knives of pain. He could feel himself starting to wake up more minute by minute while the room began to gradually come into focus.

Bradshaw's words were taking on more meaning and more intent.

"He's going to need an ambulance Ken. I've already called for it. Same goes for you. The two of you really went at it. I left you like I promised I would. I nearly busted in …but then I heard you stop. Figured you worked it out for yourself."

Sitting up a little higher, using Bradshaw's arm as a brace, Hutch tried to smile at what the other man had said.

"I have you to thank for that Pete. What you said about the hospital and Starsky…Look, shit…I know I am half punch drunk here, but let me get this out will you? I'm sorry about how I went off at you about not understanding how I felt about partners ….sounding off at you when I should have shut my mouth. You've proved you understand. I asked a lot of you tonight. I hope not too much."

He looked over at Calvetti who showed signs of coming more awake and more active in his movements. The other cop was standing by him.

Hutch thought of the concept of justice again - but in was all a swirling confusion in his clouded, throbbing head.

"There'll be some questions Pete…. questions for both of us about what went on here tonight. We could have taken him at the door, soon as he came in. You let me…do what I needed to do...I asked this of you…perhaps I should have thought more about how this might affect you."

Bradshaw shook his head.

"The man on the floor there? He's nothing but low shit scum. He's maimed and tortured so many and killed too - more than we probably will know. A sadist and a one-man freak show. He's also a cop's worst enemy because he messed with one of our brothers. He messed Starsky up. That's bad enough for other cops - but for you - . That's really tough going. You're only human Ken. Only human and humane. You have loyalty, trust and love for your partner. There's not a cop involved in this case who wouldn't see it like that."

"Thank you Pete…I really… I really mean that…still…"

"And for Christ Sakes, look at what that bastard did to you will you! You're a walking advertisement for how deranged he really is. One look at you and I don't think the IA will have too many questions. You didn't even draw your gun on the asshole – you could have shot him down cold, but you didn't…if you really wanted to kill him you would have had him point blank when he walked in the door. Why would you take this hard way to kill him when one shot would have taken him out?"

Hutch just gave him a long slow look as Bradshaw held out Hutch's badge. Hutch let it sit in his palm; it weathered and worn edges almost a balm to his aching hand. He looked at Pete's hands almost expecting him to have the magnum waiting for him also.

"My gun?"

"I'll keep it for now in case. …There are any questions. I will say that I found it on the floor in the corner where it must have skidded away during the fight. Better than trying to explain why you didn't have it on your person when Calvetti came in. It's unlikely that it will come up...but Calvetti's prints are all over it ...perhaps while he was trying to wrestle it off you."

Hutch gave him a quizzical look.

Bradshaw simply shrugged.

"Wasn't hard to do when he was out for the count..."

"Pete…you don't have to….Besides there are too many holes - great big ones- all through that story. Like where were you while I was being attacked by Calvetti? "

"Listen. Enough talking. No one is going to be looking at this, trust me. You're just too close to it right now and thinking it out from too many angles. You don't even know what you're saying you're that confused and that beaten up. And Calvetti? That walking horror show? He's not dead, last time I checked anyway. Roughed up some but not dead. You pulled back Ken, you pulled back and that is the most important thing here."

"I have to be honest Pete...it was fucking hard to do - to pull back. Your words about Starsky got me through."

"Hey don't sell yourself short. You know Starsky better than any one. You know how he thinks and how he'd feel if you went down for Calvetti's death. I just fed you the line to keep it foremost in your mind. Now, I think the ambulance is here. Do you know its nearly dawn? Need to get you checked over, patched up quick and back to the hospital. Last time I checked in with Dobey, Starsky was still in the OR…but I know you'll want to be back there before –"

Hutch tried to make a smile but his busted lip protested.

"You got it Pete. Before he wakes up."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	26. Chapter 26

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 26**

* * *

Hutch recognized his captain's voice from as far away as the corridor. He measured the footfalls of the heavyset frame and caught the labored exhalation of his short gusty breaths as he neared the curtained cubicle. He steeled himself and was ready for the inevitable beady eye of a fatigued and frustrated Dobey.

Dobey was just the first of many hurdles he might well find himself jumping in the next day or so in order to justify what had recently transpired between him and Calvetti.

Time to answer the questions about why he was sitting here in this sorry physical state - crouched over, battle weary, his whole body still undulating with waves of deep aching pain every muscle and joint throbbing in unison.

Time to construct some plausible explanation to give reason for his face and hands that were and bruised and cut up.

Time to reconcile his obvious physical thrashing with that of Calvetti's current medical status, as he lay in some distant ER department more than likely right now undergoing a semi-urgent surgical patch up.

The curtain swished back on its hooks and Hutch looked up to meet the sweeping gaze of his superior. The gaze made short work of economically assessing the picture that Hutch knew full well he presented to the captain and anyone else who happened upon his sorry ass at this particular time. The familiar broad, course featured black face was at once relieved, then exasperated and then finally left concerned with an edge of – weary resignation.

Hutch felt it wise to brave the first words.

"It's not that bad. The medics advised me take a detour here to the ER department and for once I thought I'd co-operate. My hand is a bit of a mess…."

"Not bad eh? Hmmph… Well I suppose … with you two and your track record, I'd have to say, I've seen worse."

"So now is not the time where I say to you – you should see the other guy."

"No Hutchinson. Now is not the time. So Calvetti? Is he – where is he?"

"Tony Bradshaw escorted him to the Portside Emergency. I didn't want him here in this hospital with Starsky. He's ok Captain. He's – he's a little roughed up like me."

"A little roughed up? Like you?"

Dobey moved in closer to better assess his Detective's 'little roughed up' state and far from healthy presentation. He merely grunted and looked at a point on the wall behind the examining couch where Hutch sat hunched and depleted.

"I see. And he's roughed up because ….?"

"The way it went down when he came to Joey's house was – ah – not without event. It –"

Dobey cut him off with a wave of his big pudgy hand.

"Was – was Bradshaw privy to your account and your handling of this...this ah 'event'?"

"Yes Cap'n - he was - he –"

"Well then. Let's leave it for now. You and Bradshaw just need to get your reports straight and on my desk before the next shift is out. You've got some time yet. I know you want to be with Starsky as soon as you can. You about finished up here?"

"As far as I'm concerned I am. They wanted x-rays but I know there's nothing broken and the rest is just cuts and bruising. I've been checked out by the Doc and was just waiting on someone to bind up this busted up hand. Anyway forget about me. Have you got any later news on Starsky? I got the nurse to get me a bulletin on him just before. They said he was out of OR? Do you know if they have taken him to a bed yet or if he is still up in Recovery."

"I only just left outside of the OR and he was still up there then – the Doc gave me the rundown. He's doing fine Hutch. He's doing fine. Now get yourself sorted out here before you leave for God's sake. You need something on that cut eye too. Don't want to be scaring the life out of your partner when he finally wakes up and sees you nearly as beaten up as he is. Damn it! You two! Can't even one of you stay in one piece and stop putting my blood pressure through the roof?"

Hutch would have liked to respond but couldn't summon the energy for even the lightest comeback.

Dobey looked nearly as worn as he felt and Hutch knew that the last couple of days had pushed the big Captain to the brink of his endurance. Worry and long hours were both telling in his bloodshot eyes and heavily lined forehead. Hutch vaguely wondered how many hours he had been standing in that same shirt and skewed tie. How many hours since he'd been home to see his wife and kids?

At least that was something he and Starsky didn't have to worry about - their only real personal allegiances were to each other. There were no loving nuclear families for either of them behind the scenes.

Trouble was he realised - when one or the other of them were sick or injured neither of them had a support to lean on in their immediate private lives. They were for all intents and purposes the only real family either of them had close at hand.

_And the void, the empty space if he was not to be here ever again... if I hadn't gotten to him in time...no one...no one to go home to ever again._

Dobey's irritable gruffness brought him back from his the darker corners of his worst fears.

"So I'll chase up a nurse and get you patched up – then might I suggest that you get your sorry beaten up ass some much needed coffee and something to eat before you show yourself up on the ward. You want to last the stretch while waiting for Starsky to wake up? Then take care of yourself first. It'll be a while before he even surfaces. "

Dobey moved to pull the curtain back as he prepared to leave.

"In the meantime I'm going to check in with Bradshaw at Portside and see what arrangements we need to make for Calvetti's hospital confinement. It sounds like he won't be needing a cell till tomorrow at least. And - I'll need that report from the both of you …" he looked down blearily at his watch. "By midday today. I plan to go home, shower, change and see my family for a few hours before I front back to the station. I'll wait to hear from you on how Starsky goes when he comes to from the surgery. Let me know if there is any change."

"Captain. Before you go. I need to tell you, how it happened - well what happened - with Calvetti. I - I -"

Dobey turned back, a look of world-weariness and knowing in his limpid dark eyes. He stopped Hutch's stuttered attempt to formulate the next sentence.

"Hutchinson. Don't say it. You're barely coherent as it is you're so exhausted and knocked around. Just make sure that your report and Bradshaw's match up and are on my desk before I have some snot nosed lawyer chasing me up about why Calvetti is lying in a hospital bed in Portside and is not in a holding cell waiting for interrogation. Leave it to me to take care of the rest of the red tape. You've got enough to deal with in making sure that live wired partner of yours gets up and about as soon as he can. He's been out of action so much in the past couple of months, the squad room is like a damn tomb."

Hutch gave a gentle nod accompanied by a small but grateful smile.

"Thanks. Thanks for - understanding me and what - "

"Don't thank me Hutch. You brought the animal in. Now we can put him where he belongs and where he can begin the rest of his miserable life – behind bars. He'll pay for what he did to your partner Hutch. He'll pay tenfold. Maybe not with his life like you might have wanted, but he'll pay for it slowly and tortuously for every day over the next thirty or however many years he lives. I just hope that can be enough for you."

"You're right Cap'n. I know you're right. It'll be enough."

If Hutch's tone fell short of reaching any degree of firm conviction then Dobey chose to leave the matter rest.

Hutch watched the big broad back disappear through the curtain and then into the outer door and lean in close to one of the rotating duty nurses. She looked over at Hutch and he saw her nod in agreement to Dobey's request. True to his word, Dobey was hustling along his treatment so he could be free to move up to the ward to take up his vigil with Starsky.

Hopefully then he could shortcut waiting in the treatment line. For one moment he considered boycotting the wait entirely – after all he had been given the once over by the Doc and now only needed some plastering up. But the steady throb in his head and jaw and the grinding ache in every muscle reminded him that without some painkillers his sentry post beside Starsky's bed was going to be impossible.

Hutch sighed and settled in to wait just a little longer.

The sterile emergency room was almost icy – the chill of white tiles and cool re-conditioned air seemed to settle on his heavy shoulders. Regardless of his cool skin, deep inside of him he could still feel the heat. The remnants of white-hot ash still seared his churning guts and threatened to burn a hole through his calm outer reserves.

Then the nurse was finally beside him, bearing gifts of gauze, bandages and surgical tape – and mercifully, painkillers. While she worked steadily on his busted hand and he waited for the resultant blanket of pain relief that the pills promised, he thought again about Dobey's parting words.

He knew his Captain was secretly worried that the night would have ended differently – that Calvetti would have been leaving Joey's in a coroner's wagon and that he would have been talking to his Detective in a cell and not an emergency side room. He knew that for a fact, just like he knew that Dobey would do his damnedest to slide his and Bradshaw's statements about the night's event through the system with as least scrutiny as possible.

Dobey had hoped out loud that putting Calvetti away would be enough for him.

_Would it?_

Would locking Calvetti up in a sweat box cell be enough to satisfy the insatiable vengeance he felt for what Starsky had been made to suffer?

It was all academic now anyway. Calvetti was on track for the judicial system as soon as they dragged him in. Long-term imprisonment would be the only quench to the raking thirst of his hatred for this man.

Hutch looked down as the nurse wrapped the split and swollen knuckles of his right hand. Whether he would live to regret it or not, he had made his decision.

Just over one hour ago he had pulled the final punches that would have brought what he had so desperately wanted tonight – Calvetti's death.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

They both hated hospitals. God knew they had a solid case for such prejudice.

They both hated being in the medical "system" but of the two of them Starsky hated hospitals more – over and above even Hutch's strong unease whenever he was inside their confines.

Long ago in their careers as strong contenders for the frequently maimed and injured, he and Starsky had learned the hard way about hospitals. Learned that hospitals represented dread, fear, pain and anguish, frustration, waiting, uncertainty and alienation. In fact, just about nearly every negative state of being Hutch was capable of calling to mind in his current wooly headed condition.

Hospitals stripped away identity, reducing the capable and strong to the lost and weak.

Hospitals were a system to be endured – not just for the sick but also for those who waited and watched. It was where patience was a practiced art form, a virtue to culture and develop.

As Hutch took his rightful place beside the bed in the semi darkened pre-dawn room, he felt the usual barrage of emotions that assaulted him whenever he was in this position.

As he sated himself with the first re-affirming touch of his sleeping and so very still partner he had to admit that hospitals were also about hope and deep shuddering sighs of relief. Like the deep shuddering sighs he was drawing in hungrily right now as he watched his sleeping peaceful partner. Relief that help had come at last. Relief that suffering and pain were going to be alleviated, that the wrongs to the body were righted, that finally someone, some body of skilled people were saving a loved one.

Perhaps, thought Hutch, he'd do better to try and remember what he owed to hospitals, what he should be grateful for.

Starsky was alive and he was going to get better.

Starsky was safe and he finally had him back with him. Starsky was beside him, near enough to hear him breath, close enough to smell him.

Calvetti was not dead, but Starsky was alive.

For now at least Hutch knew that it was enough.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

He had expected it.

Fifteen minutes in and it began.

It was another of the processes of the hospital experience that he was more than well versed in. The laws of visitation rights. The battle to retain them in the face of bureaucratic adversity.

"I'm sorry Sir – ah Officer, but I'm afraid I have to ask that you leave now. We can only allow short stays while the patient is recovering from surgery unless you are immediate family. You have already been in here for over fifteen minutes. "

Hutch ignored the words and instead sought her opinion. In the creeping morning light he could see the signs, the small signs in his partner's face and body that heralded in return to consciousness.

"I think he's beginning to come to – he should be starting to wake by now shouldn't he?"

He carefully adjusted the oxygen mask so that it sat more comfortably across the bridge of Starsky's nose and chose to avoid the glare his small movement elicited from the nurse.

"Sir please refrain from touching the patient or tampering with the medical equipment. You must leave now."

Weary beyond words and not in the frame of mind to calmly reason with this woman let alone the whole system, Hutch fixed her with a withering look that had her stepping back a pace.

"Lady, I don't want to fight with you. I'm tired, I'm beat up, I'm worried and I'm where I am staying for at least the next three to four hours – unless of course I go out to get a coffee or take a piss. Then I'll be right back in this chair, or pacing around this room – but I'll be here and I won't be leaving. So unless your shift ends soon you'd better get used to seeing my moody face whenever you come into to do your checks on my partner. And – you'd better not waste your breath asking me to leave again. It'll only frustrate you and make me even more frustrated than I already feel."

"But you are not authorized to be in here – you are not next of kin –"

"I am his partner. We're cops. He nearly died and I only just found him. I'm not leaving him, not for you, not for your stupid hospital rules - not for anybody. I'm authorized to be here – look on his chart – I am his next of kin. Kenneth Hutchinson."

She seemed to be relenting. Either that or he had stepped over into threatening mode. He had tried to keep his temper in check but then he was hardly a good judge of himself at the moment.

He decided it would be best to try and meet her half way.

"Look – I won't do anything to get in your way. I won't touch any medical equipment or interfere with your medical stuff unless I think I can make him more comfortable by doing it. I just want to stay here and to be left alone to do that. It's where I have to be – alright?"

"I'll check with the treating Doctor and look at his chart."

"Good you do that and I'll just do what I need to do."

She hesitated, looking down at Starsky and fiddled a little with the IV line and then added with a far less authoritative tone.

"You're right. He seems to be coming around. I'll leave you now. If you don't check out with the system or the duty doctor doesn't allow it – I'll be back."

"I'll be here – not going anywhere remember?"

She noted how he now held the sleeping man's hand in his and spoke his name periodically, soothingly - even between his curt lines to her.

Something shifted in her face and she appeared to make a decision.

This time when she looked at him he caught the edges of a warm smile and was surprised to hear the truce she offered him.

"I'll see if I can hunt you up a fresh morning coffee. Save you from leaving the room to hunt one down and missing it when he wakes."

"Appreciate it."

Left alone with just his thoughts again he leaned further forward in his chair, vigilant for the first moment when his partner would wake. The soft light from the hospital bed consul now merged with the encroaching dawn light – both illuminating the damaged and battered face and upper torso of his friend.

He'd been so intent on getting up to Starsky's room once the nursing staff had informed him that he was out of the post operative recovery unit that he'd managed only a brief and hurried conversation with the overwhelmed and fatigued Specialist. The doctor had treated Starsky upon his admission and then followed him up after his surgery. The softly spoken man had alleviated Hutch's immediate concerns that Starsky was in any real medical danger. According to him, Starsky's injuries were all manageable - the greatest danger had been the infection to his wounds, dehydration and a compromised airway due to extensive bruising around his chest region and a couple of broken ribs. The temperature and fever was a concern but the doctor had assured Hutch it would abate with the intravenous antibiotics coursing through his system.

"Your partner's body has certainly taken a major thrashing Detective – and without someway to get his fever down and stop the spread of infection filling his bloodstream – his life would have been at grave risk. He had nothing much left to fight with and his systems would have shut down very quickly once the infection entered his bloodstream. Assuming that we can get his fluid and electrolyte levels up again and put a halt to the infection, we'll see a dramatic improvement in his recovery. The knife wounds and the other abrasions look nasty – but surgically they were not an issue. His head wound is deep but the skull is not fractured. Until he wakes up and we can gauge his cognitive status we won't know about his level of concussion."

As more early daylight lit up the room and the pallor of Starsky's heavily whiskered face, Hutch swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat as he catalogued each cut, abrasion and dressing that hid a suture line.

Instead he tried to concentrate on the flickering eyelids and the small finger movements in the hand he now held.

It was the movement, the brushing of the olive toned fingers over his own pale palm that set him off. Fatigue, sleep deprivation and the rapid de-escalation of anxiety levels did the rest. He felt the fall as he plunged into the heavy wash of emotions.

_Shit! Here it comes…._

This too was familiar to him. This too was well-worn ground.

The shaking and the trembling came first. It started in his hands and travelled up his arm to his chest and then vibrated through his whole body. Then came the tears - stinging his eyes and filling them to over brimming before finding a track to course down cheeks faster than he could manage to swipe them away with one clumsily bandaged hand while the other still gripped tight to the very source of his lifting despair.

Lifting despair and flooding relief – it always brought the tears.

"Shit Starsk! Why does this always happen to me and yet you seem to be able to hold yours in for longer? Now look at me…I – Oh Shit! "

He fumbled helplessly in his jacket pocket for a handkerchief that wasn't there and swiped again at his face with his jacket sleeve before he heard a throat clearing quietly behind him.

_Oh Hell, she was back already! Surely not to try to evict him again._

He saw that she was moving the bedside mobile tray over closer toward him. He refused to give her anything but his profile - the torrent of emotion a private affair.

He was relieved when she didn't push for his attention.

"I brought you a hot coffee Detective – and some water. They're right beside you here on the tray when you're ready for them. Ummm…some tissues too in case you need them - ah, for your partner. "

He didn't look up but just choked back a muttered thanks and prayed for her to be gone again which she was.

Grabbing a handful of tissues he blotted away the worst of the dampness and steadied himself with some warm coffee.

The emotional release had brought with it some relief and he felt better able to look at the face of his friend without losing all composure.

The rate and degree of movement in Starsky's hands and arms increased – he was coming back to the world. It seemed to Hutch as though he had been gone from his world for a long long time.

All at once he felt unable to contain his hunger for the sound of Starsky's voice, the expression in his eyes, the animation in his crooked smile.

_I've missed you so much partner. Missed you. Nearly lost you. So close to losing you again. _

"Come on Starsky – wake up and look at me. Let me know that the crack to your skull hasn't left any permanent damage. Come on – wake up – it's been days since I've seen your eyes or your smile. It seems like months Starsk – not just days – it seems like months. I've missed you buddy. But you're back now – you're here with me in a safe room in a safe hospital. Why don't you wake up and look at me hey? Can you do that for me? Just one small look so I know you're ok?"

And then there it was.

The slither of vibrant blue opening to an even wider aperture as Hutch continued to coax with his soft voice.

Hutch had already noted what the heart monitor was increasing in its recorded rate. Starsky's pulse rate was starting to gallop. So important – so important that he was here with him now as these first moments of awareness filtered in and reality needed to be teased away from dreams, reality from nightmares.

How many times might Starsky have woken in the past days to a reliving nightmare? His first words to him had to be about dispelling the fear that the nightmare was still in place.

"OK …OK. You're waking up now Starsky. Can you hear me? Can you see me? This is real Starsky. This is real. You're in a hospital room and I am beside you. Just me. Hutch. "

Hutch cringed at the thought of bringing the Monster's name into the room with the two of them, but he wanted Starsky to know that Calvetti was not here to hurt him anymore.

"He's gone now Starsky. He's gone and the pain will be gone too. You're here safe with me. Safe. Just us."

Starsky fumbled with the oxygen mask, irritated and confused by its weight on his face and for a few brief moments Hutch relented and lifted it free from his mouth and nose. Instead he laid his uninjured hand down to take its place, stroking stubbled cheeks and bruised flesh with just enough firmness to convey to Starsky that his touch was real and that his presence was not a dream.

"Feel that? My hand Starsk. It's me. Just me. Are you with me?"

"W….w…with ya. Wi...with ya, 'Usshh...Utsshhh...wit' ya...see ya."

"That's great Starsky! That's just great. Keep looking at me, but I have to put the mask back on now understand? It's oxygen and you need it to help you to breath. You can't push it away OK? I'm still here beside you and I'm putting the oxygen mask on you again now so just relax and let it help you breath. The nurse will kick me out otherwise buddy. You have to keep the mask on or the nurse will be pissed off with me and she's already pissed off with me."

" ' Utch? Is ….is …she pretty?"

Hutch let out a deep chuckle and squeezed the hand he'd picked up again to express his quiet joy at the Starsky's indominatable spirit.

"More than you deserve Gordo. How come you always get the better looking ones hey? I get the battleaxes and you get the dreamboats."

"Izzz…..izzzz…cos….I end up …..in hozzzz….in hozzzpitals more…n…you do….thasss….why."

"Yeah well you're not wrong there buddy. And this time I making a rule that this is your last go at hospital for a damn long time. You hear me partner? I hereby forbid you to end up in a hospital bed again after you get out of here."

"Yeah...no more hozzzpitals 'Utch...no more..."

Hutch became alarmed when his partner began to move and squirm, his head tipping back and his eyes squeezing shut against some invisible fear, the fear of Calvetti.

"Wanna go home wit' ya now - home...take me ...home. Hate this...place...room...hate it here. He's watchin' me. Come in soon...come in here soon. Scared here 'Utch."

Starsky's groggy words and tremulous voice threatened to turn Hutch's gut inside out. He pressed the captured hand and and forearm so tightly now he feared he would add fresh bruises to Starsky's older ones.

_I wanted to kill him for you Starsk. I really wanted to do it. But I held back so I could be here with you. So we could go back to work together again - have our lives back together again. I chose that over killing him - I hope it is enough for us._

"No - No - Starsky you are not there anymore. You're here in the hospital with me. The hospital is safe Starsky. You're in the hospital now - not where you were. Home soon. Soon buddy. I'll take you home - soon as I can, I promise. But for now you have to get better and you need to be here to get better. You won't be alone. I'll always be here with you. The hospital is safe Starsk."

But the small display of agitated energy had dragged him down again and Hutch could already see that he'd gone – gone back under to the twilight of half consciousness.

"Go back to sleep Starsk. I'll be here waiting."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Half an hour later Starsky was still out to it and Hutch had used the time to take advantage of the bedside phone so that he didn't need to leave the room. He needed to touch base with Bradshaw whom he was pleased to learn had made it back to the station and begun to tackle the unsavoury job of the report write –up.

"I've got two men on Calvetti Ken, and that is more than enough because he's pretty out to it I can tell you. They've got him dosed him up good after his stint in OR. Heavy post operative pain relief for his busted nose, cheek bone and dislocated shoulder."

"Christ – when did the shoulder happen?"

"Er….probably around the time that he managed to get two of his fingers broken. The rest of the damage though is soft tissue and organ bruising. He's not looking too hot but he'll live. Well that was the consensus from the Doc when I left. "

"Yeah – he'll live."

Bradshaw was not deaf to the bitterness in his Hutch's tone.

"Ken – you did the right thing in pulling back. You know you did. Now I've just got to get creative with the report. I've already had a 'discussion ' with the uniform who was in attendance with us. He saw us pull Starsky out from there when we busted into Joey's to get him - don't think he'll forget that in a long time - so he's - he's on the same page with me as regards the report. Joey's men know nothing of what went down with you and Calvetti apart from them letting him into the house. And Joey - well Joey needs every bit of help from us he can get to walk away with the least amount of shit smeared on him from this whole sick situation. He's co-operating every bit of the way from what I can gather. "

"Tony – its not right that I'm leaving this to you …but I can't leave here just yet."

"Listen don't even think about it. You stay there you hear me. Hell, I didn't bust my gut getting you to that hospital in one piece so you'd be there for Starsky only to have you turn around and leave him for some fucking stupid incident report. I'll get it done OK? You can read it and sign off on it –or change it how you'd prefer – whenever you get back down here. God it's barely dawn yet. No-one will be looking for this report for hours yet."

"Dobey said to me earlier we had until midday. I'll be back in there well and truly by then. Starsky will be alert enough by then for me to tell him that I have to go in. Right now though - I'm not prepared to leave him by himself. He's coming to and remembering fucking Calvetti before he even understands where he is. He's going to be shaken up mentally for a long while."

" Of course you can't leave him! God, poor guy. Dealing with all that anaesthetic crap and then trying to sort out what's happened. But at least, from Dobey's account anyway, it seems as though there is minimal risk of major complications with his surgery and his injuries."

"Yeah – well God I hope so. The fever he had already seems to be under control and already with the IV fluids - well the Doc says he is being hydrated well and maybe by tomorrow he can drink himself."

"OK …why don't you go take a quick break while he's asleep again? I'll leave you to it."

Hutch stole another look in a string of many at the still deeply asleep man on the bed beside him. Tony was right about snatching the time for a brief break - he needed the john and to splash his face as best he could with one bandaged hand and a cut brow.

"Give me five minutes Buddy and I'll be back. OK? Just sleep till I get back."

SHSHSHSH

On his way back from the bathroom he noted the increased activity outside in the nurse's station. The Morning shifts were coming on as the Night shift staff were preparing to leave. He spotted the nurse who turned out to be his support rather than his enemy as she was lifting her handbag and some books into her arms.

"Hey there - I was waiting to catch you before I left. I just wanted to let you know that I am going off shift now and I have paved the way for you with the next lots of staff. You shouldn't have any problems with them leaving you be in the room. I just checked on him and he's still asleep."

Hutch gave her a warm smile. How different she seemed to when he had first encountered her only a short while ago.

"He roused a little before so from here on he should start to wake up. Thanks for everything – thanks for letting me stay. I realize you could have thrown me out on my ear if you really wanted to."

He had the graciousness – he could afford it now – to be a little sheepish.

"You think? With that attitude you showed me in there before?" She laughed lightly. "Hardly. Not unless I called security and even then I'm not sure they would have succeeded in doing anything but causing a massive scene which would have only upset the patient. Hey – you're obviously what he needs because he is settled and his OBS are all good."

"Well thanks anyway. I'd better head back in."

"Oh – damn it – nearly forgot to tell you."

"Sorry?"

"A message came in just before to the Ward desk – when you were on the phone in the room. I didn't want to interrupt you even though he really wanted to talk to you."

"My Captain? Captain Dobey?"

"No – no – Not another police officer. But he said he was very close to Detective Starsky and knew you both so very well. He said to let you know anyway that he was very pleased to know that your partner was safe and that you'd been able to get to him on time. "

"Who – who left the message?"

So very few people could have known to call him here – could have known the details of what had gone on with Starsky and him the previous night.

And certainly no one else besides another cop.

"Here I wrote it down and the time it came in."

She turned to the desk behind her and scrabbled about on the desk for a notepad.

"Here it is…he said his name was Marcus – that you knew him as Marcus - whatever that means. Do you know him? He actually called you something - some nickname... Yes! I remember. He called you the 'White Knight'. He said you were Detective Starsky's White Knight. Isn't that lovely? I guess that means you saved him huh? Saved your partner. God - No wonder you wanted to stay with him."

She was looking at him with open admiration while he could feel the blood leaving his face and his blood pressure plummeting. He steadied himself on the high-backed desk for support.

"Hey are you OK? Sorry I didn't mean to upset you."

"No - no its fine. Really its fine. Marcus…yes – yes I do know him. Thanks. Thanks."

He found his way back into the room aware that she was watching his back as he made his hasty retreat, curious and concerned at what had caused the shock on his face.

He fell into the chair and rubbed hard at the crease in between his tired eyes.

_How the hell? Marcus! Simone Marcus? How could he possibly know what had gone on tonight? _

Starsky was still in another land and Hutch wanted so much to be able to wake him – to talk to him – to confirm again that he was here with him and free of the evilness of both Calvetti and Simone Marcus.

He stood up suddenly and roughly retrieved the phone - handset and all, dragging the extension cord so that he could sit beside the bed to make the call.

With one arm draped protectively over his partner's softly moaning body he punched in the numbers to the squad-room with the other.

As he waited to be patched through to Dobey, he leaned even closer over Starsky's form. He needed to blanket him, shield him – from what he didn't even know anymore – but the need to cover him, to guard him, to protect him, seemed so much more imperative since he heard the nurse's words.

_Was there no where safe for Starsky?_

SHSHSHSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	27. Chapter 27

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 27**

* * *

_"…He said his name was Marcus – that you knew him as Marcus - whatever that means."_

His good hand had a death grip on the phone piece while his bandaged hand threatened to squeeze his sleeping partner to the point of hurting him. Only when he heard the soft moan beneath him did he realize to what extent he had Starsky in a stranglehold.

By the time he managed to get Communications to track down Dobey and patch him through at his home phone, Hutch's nerves were at fever pitch.

Physical and emotional exhaustion was layered upon him so thickly now that the news of Marcus' contact blossomed quickly into full-blown paranoia.

_No! I'm not paranoid. This is real. This has happened. Marcus is still there in the background – waiting and watching. Knowing. He knows what is happening with Starsky. He's still out there – haunting us both._

"Hutchinson? What the hell is it? Is Starsky all right? Has something happened?"

Too late he realized that his urgent and insistent demands to be put through to the Captain at home had led Dobey to think the worst.

Agitation and fatigue swept away all social graces and he didn't bother in reassuring his superior about Starsky's physical welfare.

"He's phoned the ward! He's phoned the fucking ward and asked to talk to me. He knows about what went on with Calvetti and he knows Starsky is here in hospital!"

"Hutch? Slow down. What are you yelling about? Who? Who knows Starsky in the hospital? "

"Marcus! Fucking, fucking Simone Marcus. Cap'n you've got to get onto the prison guards and find out how the hell this happened. He's supposed to be locked up for Christ's Sake – he's supposed to be behind bars in maximum security. How does he know anyway? How does he know?"

"Look – listen. Back up and explain to me what you are saying. I am half out of it with lack of sleep, I've only just got home and now you're calling me screaming in my ear about Simone Marcus? What the hell does this have to do with anything that has happened last night? Are you still there at the hospital with Starsky?"

"Yes of course I am! "

He heard the sharpness in his own voice and made an effort to modulate himself.

"Yes – I'm still here. Starsky is ok; he's starting to wake up gradually. A few minutes ago the nursing staff told me that they had got a call in from someone called 'Marcus' who was inquiring about Starsky and saying that he was pleased that I'd gotten to him on time or something. How could he possibly know any of that? It was only hours ago and no one but the few of us involved would know the details – but he knows and he knows where Starsky is Captain. What the shit is going on? You've got to look into it? Is this him threatening Starsky again?"

"Hutch – you're tired. Are you sure this was a call from Marcus and the nurse's didn't get it mixed up?"

"Yes I'm fucking sure! Who the fuck else is going to call the ward and ask about what went on with getting to Starsky with the name of Marcus? He even used that damn term – the 'White Knight' – of course it's fucking him!"

"Hutchinson! Cool it. Don't take your anger out on me. Now settle down while I look into this from my end. It just doesn't seem plausible – for all sorts of reasons."

"Anything is plausible with Marcus. You know that. He's got spies and influences everywhere. Somehow he got to put that call through to the ward. Somehow he knows a shitload about what is happening out here in the real world."

"Yeah – it's obvious that he has some pull inside – even in Maximum. Kookheads are everywhere – damn cult loving weirdoes. Anyway I'll make some calls and look into it – put your mind at rest that he's still in the cell and not running around the streets."

"Don't you see Cap'n it doesn't matter that he's still locked up? He was damn well locked up when they took Starsky last time. Makes not one bit of difference to how dangerous he is or what he can arrange to have done with all of his sick power."

"I know Hutch – I remember clearly too you know. Don't talk to me like I have no idea of what we're dealing with in Marcus. You're not the only one who went through hell the whole sick case – what he did to all those poor victims – and what he had done to Starsky. "

"Sorry Cap'n – sorry, I know. I know you went through it all too. I'm just – just at my end here. Jesus! When is all this going to be over? Will it ever be over? Calvetti is finally under wraps and now this longhaired psycho is playing with us again. "

"Look – I think you'd better get back into the station so we can start to pull all of this together – you need to push through the report from last night, I know Bradshaw's taking care of it – but I need it squared away. Then we have to follow up on the women involved with Calvetti before they get wind of what's gone down and skip out on us. And now – we have to follow up on this call from Marcus. Once we've done all of that we both need to get some damn sleep. When are you prepared to leave Starsky?"

"I'm not leaving here until you send me in at least one uniform and one plainclothes – I want him covered every minute while I'm not here. Don't expect me back there till then."

"Then let me get off the phone to shuffle some men for a rotating watch of Starsky. I'll let you know what I can arrange at short notice – I'll get back to you on this phone so stay close."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He put the phone down with a deliberate effort to bring some calmness into the room. Belatedly he could see that his raised voice and aggressive tones had unsettled Starsky who was now beginning to twist and squirm in the bed, low unintelligible mutterings coming from under the oxygen mask.

Hutch still had his arm draped over the sheet-covered body and could feel the tension in Starsky as he was coming out of the deeper sleep.

"Hey. It's all right. Everything is all right here. I was just sounding off to Dobey. You know how we get with him? Just me and my temper – no one else in here. I shouldn't have raised my voice like that – sorry buddy."

The dazed blue eyes were open again– looking directly at him, confusion clouding their normal vibrant clarity. Hutch realized then that Starsky may well have heard some of what he had said to Dobey.

"Ya' pissed off 'Utch? Pissed with the Cap'n? Wha' – wha' he do this time huh?"

"Hey there sleepyhead! You're back again? You're really starting to wake up now aren't you? No – I'm not really pissed off with the Cap'n , just frustrated – angry at everything that has happened to you. Worried – worried about you, you big lug."

"Why? Why ya worried Hutch? Whas' wrong? Wrong with me? Whas' wrong with me? Where…where…?"

Starsky tossed his head to the side now and then back to the other – taking in the room, taking in the context of himself and his body. Hutch saw that he went very still all of a sudden – still and quiet. Hutch knew what he was doing. He was listening to his own body, reading its signals, its feedback of pain and broken state. He would be scouring his dulled mind for some memories, some coherence to give him a framework for the state he found himself suspended in at the moment.

Hutch watched as the inevitable awareness dawned and the pieces starting to fall back into place. He knew that Starsky's memories would be fractured and his thoughts all displaced, but with each passing moment of consciousness, the recent past was pushing in on him.

Starsky was remembering. He would be hurting. The swollen torrent of the trauma he had experienced was breaking through the levy of lingering anesthesia and heavy sedation. The tide of pain couldn't be held back for much longer. Recall could not be stopped. The dirty frothing waters of his recent reality were encroaching, seeping under the closed doorways in his mind and filling up the dead spaces in his memory.

Soon there would be no stopping the saturated weight of understanding and the wet stinking heaviness of remembered fear and pain.

Hutch couldn't help him. He knew that. This was the process of recovery – the nature of waking to the aftershock of injury and trauma. Part of getting through life's more terrible experiences. Part of being a cop. Part of being on the line, body and soul. They were both used to this process – both in experiencing it and having to watch the other go through it – in order to come out the other end.

But it never made it any easier – and this time, this time, it seemed all that harder for Hutch to watch his partner struggle with the steps.

Hutch wanted to take Starsky's pain away, the memories and the realizations away. All of it. But of course that was futile thinking. Because, there was no going forward until Starsky went back. As much as Hutch would have wanted to share the journey with him, to support him as he travelled back in his mind, it was something that he could not be shared. Starsky had to walk back alone to look and remember.

"I'm banged up – banged up some huh?"

"You sure are buddy…banged up pretty bad. You're in hospital remember? I told you before but you keep falling back to sleep and forgetting."

He might not be able to walk back with Starsky into his near distant past with its nightmarish memories. That was a solo trip for one. But he could be here to lead him back out again to the present, to guide Starsky back to the secure solidity of now.

"Oh – remember now. Hosp...…hospital."

"Hospital and safe. With me. Just me. "

Only now Hutch couldn't be so sure the present was secure, was solid. The specter of Marcus was back again. But Starsky couldn't know about that – couldn't have than in his mind when he already had so much to deal with getting through the nightmares of his captivity by Calvetti.

Starsky pulled his arm out from under the firm Hutch's firm grip and his hand found Hutch's.

"You found me? Got me outta there Hutch? "

Hutch squeezed back and swallowed hard.

"Yes. I found you buddy. You're going to be ok now. I found you and you're away from there."

"You didn't believe I was dead did ya' Hutch? He – he said ya' thought I was dead and you – wouldn't come and get me. I was – thought – ah shit Hutch…" The blue eyes were fixed on him and although the power in his hand was weak, its hold had an almost urgent quality about it. Constant, resolute.

"No! I never never thought you were dead Starsk. That was all just a lie to get at you, to break you down. None of it was true – none of it. I wouldn't have given up looking anyway Starsky. Never."

"Good – isss good that ya' didn't think it – was worried how ya'd feel if I'd checked out on ya' 'Utch…didn't check out. Didn't die on ya' 'Utch – tried to hang on –"

He was beginning to struggle with the lethargy again and the effort to articulate and concentrate enough to think was quickly taking its toll.

"Starsky just rest now. We can talk later, when you're not so tired. Don't try to think, just close your eyes and I can sit here with you until you go to sleep again."

"Don't wanna go to sleep again – don't wanna have to wake up again and figure it out again – that I'm – that I'm not there anymore – not in that room."

"I know that – that's the damn hardest part isn't it? The waking up after something that has been so bad. I know that buddy. But each time it will get easier when you remember that you're not there anymore."

"Thought – thought before I could hear his voice – thought he was coming back."

Suddenly he jerked, eyes wide and shock white on the bruised and swollen features as though he was seeing something that evoked horror in him.

"She – she's dead Hutch – he shot her! Shot her right in front of me while I held her. I held her for him to shoot her Hutch. She didn't even know it was comin'."

"Ssshh its ok. Its alright. You're getting yourself all worked up. Just lie still."

"You've got to go look for her body Hutch – there's a body. Girl – Cass – Cassandra. She cut me up but – but she didn't deserve to die."

"Starsky we know – we know about her. You don't have to think about any of it. Its all been taken care of. Its over – all over. We've got him."

"But I held her. She couldn't move away from the gun Hutch."

"Starsk you had nothing to do with her murder. Nothing. You didn't know what he planned to do. You couldn't have stopped him. He's a cold hearted bastard. He would have killed her anyway to prove a point. He's killed others too no doubt…but you can't worry about any of that now."

"Where is he? Cal – Calvetti, where is he?"

Hutch felt himself tense at the name – the name he could barely tolerate to hear. Starsky was looking at him more discerningly now, pushing fatigue away in an attempt to focus on Hutch. Starsky's eyes fixed on Hutch's cut eye and then travelled down to his heavily bandaged right hand. The dazed eyes sharpened as he critically appraised Hutch's own injured appearance.

"He's not locked up yet is he Hutch? Calvetti – he's not locked up yet is he? You gonna tell me what ya' did Hutch? Tell me – tell me ya' didn't Hutch. Oh God please tell me ya' didn't…look at your hands and your eye."

Jerking, Hutch pulled the bandaged hand back almost guiltily and tucked it down under the sheet. His good hand came up to self-consciously finger his split brow where the butterfly strips pulled the deep cut together while it healed up. He'd refused sutures – not wanting to take the time for local anesthetic. He didn't doubt that he might need to reconsider the decision if the cut kept opening.

"Its nothing Starsky. Nothing. No I didn't - didn't do what I know you're thinking of. Shit though, I really wanted to Starsk – I really,"

The words choked in the back of his throat.

"I really wanted to kill him for you. For me - for what he did to you. I still want to kill him."

Starsky sagged back with relief at Hutch's words and the last of his energy seemed to drain away.

"Shit Hutch. What did ya' think I'd do without you hey? You kill him and where would that leave me? Who would've been here to look after me when you spring me outta this joint huh? "

Bradshaw's prophetic words came back to Hutch now – how close to the grain he was with how Starsky thought.

"I have to be honest with you babe – it's the only reason I didn't finish him off. I had – had – to keep thinking of you waking up here with me not here – not here because I was holed up in some cell because I'd killed the sonofabitch with my bare hands. I – I couldn't have you being left alone after just finding you again Starsk."

"So glad you didn't do it Hutch – so glad you're here now. Couldn't do this – without you. Don't think I'd have the strength without you Hutch. I need you – always will."

Starsky's words and expressive eyes tipped Hutch over again into full blown choking emotion.

This time he didn't fight it – just gave in to the tears and the quiet release of all that had been held deep inside of him since he first realized that Starsky had gone missing.

No longer capable of keeping even a small distance between himself and his friend, he leaned over and laid his weary tear lined face down on Starsky's waist. His wet hot cheek pressed against the smooth texture of his partner's skin and he breathed in deeply to inhale the familiar smell of skin and body. When he felt Starsky's hand moving up, Hutch felt his body fold completely, giving himself up to the total acceptance of soul healing comfort and the gentle stroke of Starsky's fingers through his hair.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

By mid morning he was back in the squad room – he'd caught a quick shower and a change of clothes but sleep was still a luxury he couldn't allow himself just yet.

He doubted even sleep would come to him until he did what he had to do.

To find out for himself why Marcus was insinuating himself back into Starsky's life.

He found Dobey back at his own desk and like himself, fresh clothes and a shower didn't erase the heavy exhaustion that dogged his every move and statement. Bradshaw had also waited until Hutch had come back from the hospital – so that he and Hutch could go over their report together about the "apprehension" of Calvetti.

The two Detectives were now with their Captain, Bradshaw sitting forward in his chair watching while Dobey read, with a rigid Hutch standing stood off to the side.

Dobey accepted the report from Bradshaw with an air of practiced indifference despite the report being of considerable sigificance to all three men in the room. He merely grunted at its content as he perused it, it's authors looking on, each casting the other occasional long looks.

Dobey finally looked up and nodded at his two detectives.

"Well seems like you've covered the salient points here Bradshaw. It's good that you've also got the other attending officer to file a summary of the event so that will save us hunting that down if the IA have any questions on the, ah, the difficulties you and Hutchinson experienced in bringing Calvetti in. Now that Hutchinson has signed off on it, I'll have it made ready for Calvetti's lawyers when he gets released from hospital."

He lay the report down on his desk and pushed himself back in his chair.

"OK good work. Now I suggest you both go home."

Bradshaw rubbed at his stiff neck, unkinking the knots that had accumulated there while Dobey had read the report that he had painstakingly crafted to give Hutch the best chance of avoiding the attention of Internal Affairs.

"There's still a lot of loose ends that need tying up Cap'n. The two women who arranged the abductions for Calvetti are still out there and we've got to establish their connection to the dead man Marty who gave us the original lead on Calvetti."

"I've got the fresh team in this morning and they're going to be following up on the dead woman – ah – the one Calvetti killed before leaving his house and also the two women connected with Calvetti's victims. Seems as though one of them was the woman who hijacked Starsky the morning he went missing. I really think that it's time you too pulled back and went home for a few hours."

Dobey looked up and over at his second Detective who remained standing stiffly against the wall.

"Why are you looking at me like that Hutchinson?"

"I already made that clear earlier Cap'n. I want to go back in and talk to Marcus."

Dobey blew out his breath.

"Come on Hutch – I've already been over this with you on the phone before you left the hospital. Marcus' position is intact. I don't know and no one is saying how he made that damn call. We'll probably never know. But his security hasn't been breached and he's locked up tight in his cell. I don't think we need to waste time and concern on rattling his chain. It has no real bearing on this case."

"No real bearing? No fucking real bearing on 'this case'? If the 'case' is Starsky's abduction than he has every damn relevance to it because he has inside information and he has implied a new threat to Starsky. And – he's the one who has rattled _our_ chain – he's the one who pushed his face into the case."

"But what threat did he pose? A taunting phone call aimed to stir the living daily- lights out of you which it obviously has."

"Taunts are how Marcus works. Taunts are threats when they come from him. He's back for a reason Cap'n – he wouldn't have made the contact if he wasn't. It must have taken a hell of a lot of favours to get to make that call, so he has an agenda. I want to find out what the agenda is. I'm asking you to clear a way for me to go back in to talk to him."

"Hutch – go home please. Home and sleep. We'll talk about this again tomorrow if there is any further rumbles from him. We've got the officers posted on Starsky at the hospital so he's covered. I let you near Marcus like this – like you are? You know what mess will come of it. Just put this aside will you?"

"No. I can't Cap'n. I can't. Its only weeks ago that he took Starsky."

"And its damn well only literally less than twenty four hours since you got him back from Calvetti! Now lets just deal with what we have here to deal with and not go looking for any more shit to shovel."

Bradshaw stood up and walked toward his Captain.

"Captain Dobey. I'm happy to go in with him. I can shadow him, moderate the interview."

Bradshaw looked at Hutch and spread his hands.

"Look Ken – the Captain's right. You're in no mental shape to do this – not by yourself. I managed to keep you off Calvetti, I think I can do the same here for Simone Marcus."

He then turned back to Dobey.

"He needs to do it Captain. There's no way he's going to let this one go by and I do tend to agree we need to follow up on why this happened. Another talk with Marcus can't hurt – if nothing else to put all our minds to rest. Will you arrange it if I go in with him?"

It was obvious that Dobey had been worn down in more ways than one. He pressed the heels of his hands into bleary eyes before giving the two men a long suffering look.

"What is this Bradshaw? You doing an understudy for Starsky now and ganging up on me just like the two of them always do? I'm damn well too tired to argue with you anymore Hutch – and I know you sure as hell aren't going to let me get any rest until you get this out of your system. But I'm warning you – you too Bradshaw since you've put your hand up for being the shortstop for any problems between Marcus and Hutch – I don't want to get a report back from the prison that my Detective has gone in there and caused a shitfight with a high-profile prisoner."

Hutch merely nodded while Bradshaw responded.

"Like I said Captain – I'll keep him grounded."

Dobey moved for the phone.

"You'd better make sure you do Bradshaw and Hutchinson you better keep those fists by your side. One report to slide under IA's noses is more than enough. I don't want you to have to explain away why Marcus is in hospital as well as Calvetti. Let me make the damn call to get you two in."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"How long does it take to arrange an interview room for Christ's Sake? We've been sitting out here for over half an hour! I need to get back to the hospital. I've been gone for way too long now."

"Hey – you wanted this Ken. You needed to do this – now we're here just cool it and get your head together. I don't want you going in there all steamed up. I put my ass on the line with Dobey for this. You have to promise me to keep yourself in check."

"Look I'm not going to jump him. I just want to know what the game is he's playing here again. This sicko has fucked around in my head too many times already."

"Then don't let him fuck you around this time. OK? You lose it in there – he gets exactly what he wants."

"He's already got what he wants ! He's got me here. He's got my attention. He's got me scared all over again – and he's got me leaving Starsky's side so I can fucking find out what he's trying to set up!"

"Maybe that's all he wants then. Maybe he just wants to feel you squirm and lose your focus. Maybe he's bored off his sick brain and is reaching for some entertainment – and you're it."

"I can live with that. I can take that – if that's all this is. But if I get in there with him and I smell that he's after Starsky again – "

Hutch's last words were lost as the heavy door behind them opened and a prison guard appeared – his face a mask of indifference and apathy. How much of the look Hutch wondered was a studied countenance? Was this one of the guards who facilitated the phone call for Marcus? Was this one of the prison system's traitors? Was he one who pocketed favors from Marcus' outside influences so that the twisted cult leader could continue to act out his psychological gameplaying, continue to fuck around in other people's lives long after he had been locked away in a concrete cell?

The guard's face hardened under Hutch's penetrative scrutiny. He stared back for a moment into the cold blue eyes that fixed him with unguarded animosity before he looked sharply away.

"Rooms ready and the prisoner is waiting. Follow me."

He led them down the darkened cold length of the high security section of the prison before unlocking an inner gate and motioning them both through and over toward another heavy door. Another guard waited outside of the door's entrance and Hutch felt again the burning antipathy toward a man he didn't even know. To him, all those who worked within these walls were not to be trusted. Anyone of them, could be in bed with Marcus and what was left of his cult on the outside.

Bradshaw interpreted Hutch's sharp glances toward the guards. He gave him a gentle nudge on the arm, trying to distract him from his blatantly wary calculation of the two guards.

"You OK?"

When Hutch didn't respond he pulled him a little to the side away from the two men and spoke in a low tone.

"You know we are not here for anything other than to talk to Marcus. Not here to investigate how that call got through to the ward - just why. Let it pass Ken. It's not important to us now. Ken?"

There was again a delay in Hutch's response and Bradshaw wondered if his message was getting through.

Finally Hutch nodded and pulled his eyes from the guards.

"Yeah – Yeah OK. I get it. I'm fine. Let's do this."

He walked past the two guards as they opened the interview room door with a curt delivery and narrowed eyes.

"You can leave us now. We'll knock when we're finished with him."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH


	28. Chapter 28

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 28**

* * *

There had been a tacit agreement that Hutch would lead the interview with Marcus and that Bradshaw would play shadow. Not that Hutch considered whatever was about to transpire in this room with its barred windows and reedy light could be construed as an interview or even a dialogue. When one sat in the company of Simon Marcus, one was made to feel like a participant in some sort of metaphysical dance. A dance that Marcus liked to lead, twisting and turning his unwitting partner in some bizarre choreography that had no rhythm and a jarring style.

Hutch was wholeheartedly sick of Simon Marcus. Sick of his self-appointed superiority, sick of his psychological prattle and innuendo and sick of being made to feel that there was always something that Marcus held just out of his reach.

Hutch's first sight of the bearded, heavy browed and dark-eyed cultist, had his already raw and unsettled stomach turning. He bit down on the reaction that he knew would rise up in him, and strove for calm.

He needed to use this time to get some sort of coherent information out of this riddle loving soothsayer – he needed some reassurance that his worst fears about Marcus were unfounded. He needed to know that Marcus was not gunning for Starsky again.

It was almost laughable if it wasn't so damn frightening. He should have said to Marcus to get in line. Starsky was every Sick Fucker's pinup boy these past weeks - he was very much in demand. If Marcus wanted him again - there were only lean pickings left of his partner's poor battered body and mind. Calvetti's sick hand and mind had left little behind for anyone else.

Hutch felt nausea rise in him at the memories of what both of these two Psychos had tried to do - had done - to Starsky.

Bradshaw, true to his intentions, melded quietly into the wall. Marcus barely paid him a fleeting glance. Bradshaw was not his party favor – Hutch knew there was only one man that the prisoner was waiting for, and that was him.

Hutch took a seat across from him; the table between them, the barred small aperture of light behind Marcus, haloing his dark head in a way that to Hutch, just seemed incongruent, almost unjust.

_He should be backlit with black light, to match his soul._

The scene and the feel of the two of them was so very similar to another time not so long ago that Hutch had to remember that was in the past – Starsky was not missing this time – he was in fact safe – for now. This time his business with the Cultist was not so gut wrenchingly terrifying. This time he was not chasing down Starsky's whereabouts, fearful that Marcus' puppets had already butchered him. However, the urgency aside, it still felt to Hutch as though the man across the table held all the cards.

It soured Hutch's gut to realize that in the space of only a few moments Marcus' omnipresent stare had trapped him. His piercing, searching gaze fixed him with what almost felt like a cherished appraisal and Hutch felt repelled by the ways his eyes continued to bathe him in looks of blatant admiration.

A sense of calm wonderment lit Marcus' voice.

"You have saved him. You saved him and brought him to safety. The White Knight has given me back my Polaris."

"What do you know about Starsky Marcus? How do you know anything about Starsky or me for that matter?"

"I dream still – even in this prison that you and the law you honor have put me – to try to keep me away from what I have to achieve, from what my destiny is. But even in this prison, even in here – no one can stop Simone from dreaming and seeing. No one can stop Simone from his destiny and his people's destiny."

"Did you place a phone call today Marcus? Did you arrange to have the guards permit you to make a phone call – to come out of your cell and make an unsupervised call?"

"I talk to many people – through dreams and through thoughts."

"Yeah and through telephones – with your voice. Tell me about the call Marcus. Tell me what you know about Starsky. Tell me how you know it and why you need to know it."

"Polaris is safe – that matters greatly to me. Safe and alive – thanks to you. I dreamed that you would save him – from the one who wanted to hurt him, who tried to use him for his own selfish needs. No one hurts Polaris."

"How? How do you know anything about what happened to Starsky? Last time I talked to you, you mentioned things – things that turned out to be real. How did you know those things Marcus? How do you know that Starsky has been found? Has someone in here been feeding you information? Someone who has a contact with our department?"

Marcus folded his hands into a slow clasp and smiled.

"I know that you are already doubting that premise Detective. I can see in your eyes that you are realizing the depth of my visions and the lucidity of my dreams. Isn't that true?"

"Your visions could all be accounted for by inside information that you are being fed."

But even as he said it, Hutch knew that not to be true. The convoluted ramblings Marcus had given him about Starsky's captor could not possibly have come from anyone on the inside of the department. Until the now dead man Marty had surfaced at Huggy's with the film of Starsky's torture, there had not been a single real lead to his whereabouts. And if in fact this bloodthirsty guru sitting before him was gifted with higher perceptual powers, to what end was he using the information?

What did it mean for his partner?

Marcus ignored the statement.

"What is it that brings you here to me today Detective? Your face is filled with fatigue, your eyes speak of pain and worry and your body speaks of untold anger and rage. Why have you brought all of this to me?"

Hutch felt the chair screeching back before he realized he was up and pacing. Bradshaw threw him a quick look of concern.

"OK enough with the social niceties and your touchy feeling looks. You know fucking well why I'm here Marcus. You know fucking well why I'm looking like I look. You wanted me here! You threw out the line and you want me to grab it. So here I am. I'm here! You have your God Damn audience! Now I'm waiting with bated breath for you to tell me why you made the call to the hospital. What do you want with Starsky again?"

"Polaris' welfare is always my concern. He is a bright burning star that I will never allow to burn out until it has reached its zenith."

"Oh for…. I can't do this again Marcus. I won't do this again. Just tell me that you mean no further harm to Starsky and that you will stay out of his life."

"I have just told you that your partner is a crux. His star's burning brightness is ordained by what I dream, not by other's dreams. The predator that hurt him is not what I dreamt for him; it is not what Polaris was meant for. You pulled him back from the mouth of the predator. I dreamed you would do that. I lit your way. I wanted you to find him for me and you did. You have given him back to me."

"I did not find my partner to give him to you. Starsky, Starsky – stop with the Polaris fucking bullshit…is nothing to do with you and you need to let go of him. You need to stop making him part of your sick fantasy and sick dreams. He is a cop, he is my friend, and he is a real person. You've already put him through so much and now he has gone through more – with - "

He pulled himself up short,before he divulged information on Calvetti. He caught the look of relief on Bradshaw's face when he corrected himself.

' - With what has happened to him recently while he was missing. He is not an object that you can crap all over with your satanic shit. I'm asking you – please just leave him alone."

Worn down completely now and not even sure what if anything he was accomplishing with this circuitous interchange, this back and forth verbal volleying, Hutch knew there was not going to be a climatic outcome to this meeting. Marcus had no intention of clarifying his ongoing interest in Starsky and Hutch knew that it was completely pointless in trying to pursue any logical form of questioning with the enigmatic cult leader.

He cast Bradshaw a wilted look of complete and utter resignation and wondered about the time. How long he had been away from the hospital?

Simon Marcus had defeated him even before he entered the room.

There was never going to be a definitive outcome with this paradox. Here was a man who had arranged Starsky's death only weeks earlier and was now claiming to have saved him from the clutches of a similar twisted fate by using his ability to dream and see what others could not.

Pure selfishness was driving him – selfishness and ego. He wanted Polaris, Starsky alive – but only for his own gratuitous evilness. Only so he could be the one to hurt and sacrifice him in the name of some fucked up devil worshipping madness.

What had he possibly thought he could accomplish by coming here today? Dobey was right. He had let his extreme fatigue and over taxed emotional state lead him to yet another fruitless showdown with the master showman himself. Tricks and riddles, smoke- screens and distortions – none of it based on anything that Hutch could get a grip of – get a handle on.

He was a cop for Christ's sake, not a religious zealot or a demon slayer.

"I can see that I've wasted my time coming here to talk to you Marcus. I've wasted my time and I've walked right into whatever it was that you wanted me to walk back into. You phoned the hospital for a reason. Forget dreams and visions. You phoned to let me know two things. You wanted to let me know that you had the power to arrange it – the power to make people here in this prison do what you ask them to do. That alone made you feel pretty big didn't it Marcus? Let the cop know that even in maximum security, there is no holding Simon Marcus back from getting what he wants. Maybe you want me to worry about what else you can arrange to happen from your prison cell hmmnn? Then the second reason you phoned the hospital, was to let me know that you are still obsessing over Starsky. That even after you put him through hell, you want more from him. Isn't that right Marcus? Am I close?"

Nothing. Silence. Just small gentle tipping of the lips, and hooded glances. Hutch watched the slight stiffening of Marcus' spine and he snapped at the silent man. "I can read you now Marcus. You're sitting there and you're full of yourself aren't you? You're thinking - yes, you're so right Hutchinson, I have won again, played you again. Teased and taunted and put you in a corner where you know nothing more than when you came in here. You arrogant self glorified bastard. Well listen to me. Listen good."

Bradshaw's hand came down to touch Hutch's shoulder –but he quickly shrugged it away.

"My partner has been through two terrifying and traumatic ordeals. He can't take anymore. I don't want him to have to take anymore. If you are managing to manipulate people from inside this prison system – and I am damn sure you are – make absolutely certain that you leave my partner out of any of your future plans. You're on the take off strip waiting to fly into the big blue yonder Marcus. Death Row. It can take a little time to taxi down the runway. I know like every other mortal – you want that journey to last as long as it can – even if it means sweating it out in this prison shitbox. You can dream a lot of dreams and have some sick fun in your head while you're waiting. But you mess anymore in Starsky's life – then I will use every conceivable power and pull I have to make sure that waiting time is cut short."

"You come here with your – your backup – to threaten me?"

"Him?"

Hutch gave a bitter laugh and waved his hand at Bradshaw.

"He's not my back-up Marcus – he's your backup. A watchdog to protect you. He's what's keeping me from using more than words to convince you that this is – not a threat – but a – a – promise. I will promise you that if you try to hurt Starsky again I will hurt you. Likewise – I promise to leave you alone – to sit and dream all the shit you want to dream till your number comes up for the Big Day. If - and only if, you leave my partner alone. I haven't got anything else to bargain with Marcus. But – I figure if it was me – shit – I'd choose a few more months, a year maybe – over total oblivion and death."

He sneered at his last few words.

"Unless of course you can dream your dreams when you're dead."

There was a pause again - a silence that Hutch was too tired to fill.

Marcus looked down at his clasped hands and back up at Hutch's face.

"Polaris is safe. You have saved him for me – for yourself too – but it is important that my star is still bright. My message to you - at the hospital - was meant only to convey my joy at what you had achieved. Your anger and vindictiveness that you have brought here before me today is misplaced. You brought it here to me when it would have been better laid at the feet of the one who tried to take Polaris from me."

"I gave him enough of my anger and vindictiveness."

Hutch pushed absently at his bound hand and knew that Marcus' eyes had found the evidence of what he did to Calvetti as soon as he entered the room.

"But I still have plenty to go around if its needed. Don't make me need to spread it Marcus. Let me leave here today with something that tells me you are not going to be in Starsky's life anymore – you or any of your followers that might still be out there. Give me something to walk out of here and know that I won't need to shorten your time on that runway strip."

"Go back to Polaris – go back to him. His time was not meant to be now. His time is not now. Simone dreams only of his continuing brightness."

"Continuing brightness? Well I'll take that. I'll hold onto that. Starsky's continuing brightness for your continuing time to dream here – as long as it lasts."

"You were his White Knight – you pulled him back from the blackness of the one who wanted to take him. I am grateful for what you have done for me. You followed my dreams till you found him safe. Keeping the star burning. For me. "

"Just so you are sure on this. I did nothing for you Simon Marcus. Whatever I did, I didn't do for you. A series of events lead me to finding him. Your dreams might show you some of what happened but they didn't find him. Factual leads and and solid cop work found him. Dream all you like – even about your so-called Polaris. I really don't care. So long as we are both clear on the fact that your dreams don't impinge on our lives."

The door was inviting him to leave and he couldn't wait to be on the other side of it.

"Now our conversation is finished. I need to get back to the hospital - check that my partner's light is still bright and burning. I'll let your friends at the door know that our little meeting time together is over."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Hutch quietly opened the door to the hospital room, prepared to relieve the cop who was stationed inside with Starsky.

He'd spoken briefly to the plainclothes officer at the door and established that there had been nothing suspicious or untoward go down since he'd taken up his post late that morning.

The second officer – a uniform was sitting in the corner with a coffee by his side and a newspaper spread out before him on a small table.

To his surprise his careful quiet entry was a wasted effort. The unmistakable grumpy tone of an unwell Starsky was a shock to him but music to his ears all the same. He was not prepared to see Starsky so awake and alert when he finally re-entered the hospital room five hours since he'd left it.

A frustrated grunt preceded Starsky's little tirade.

"So you go off , just walk out and leave me here with some overgrown babysitter who has done nothing but stare at me like I'm some circus animal for the past two hours. It's bad enough that I've got tubes coming out of me and going into me in all the wrong places, without having HIM watching me like I'm about to glide off the bed and walk out of here unnoticed."

Starsky's irritable mood meant that he'd found a brief respite from the severe pain - pulled himself together enough to try to fool Hutch that he was fine. It didn't work - but his efforts to allay Hutch's fears meant he was at least feeling a little better.

The young uniform gave an embarrassed cough and straightened up immediately in his chair, flinging the newspaper he had held to the floor and knocking his empty coffee cup over in the process.

"That's not true Sergeant Starsky. You have only been fully awake for half an hour, prior to that you've been sleeping and weren't even aware of my presence. Also I have not been staring at you – I've been reading my paper and remaining alert."

"Alert for what? In case my catheter kinks up? In case I roll out of bed? How much action do you think is gonna happen in a room with a man who is half dead? No make that – three quarters dead."

Hutch felt the bubbling up of suppressed joy – it was finally surging up through the thick layers of exhaustion and what had been expired hope. The familiar cadence of the famous Starsky whine was all it took to allow himself to finally accept that they had somehow both come through all of this – again.

They were on the other side. Cheated loss and cheated death, one more time.

"Well hello to you to Starsk. Nice of you to notice me standing here."

"Thought I just did – and now because you are standing there, can you let this kid go home or back to his precinct or wherever you dragged him from and leave me in God Damn peace with just a shred of my dignity intact. I couldn't even groan in private with him sitting there like some eagle - and I can tell you the way I feel, I could do with a good groan."

"Oh I don't know – what do you think Officer? Would you agree Sergeant Starsky is doing just fine with his groaning?"

The young cop cracked a toothy smile and spluttered to the side before catching sight of the heavy scowl from Starsky. He bent down to retrieve his paper and cup and looked to Hutch for direction.

"I think my partner is right – you can go back to the station now – I'm leaving the plainclothes outside in the hall, but - now that Sergeant Starsky is fully awake I think your work here is done. He'd only make your surveillance hell. Thanks for your cover. Can you let Captain Dobey know that I have relieved you?"

"I'll be sure to do that Sir. "

He made for the door offering a small wave to Starsky who had slid back down into the depths of the bed – bravado and wit fading fast. But he offered the officer some gratitude nonetheless - his voice no where near as strong as it was seconds earlier.

"Yeah – see ya' kid - and - look, thanks. Appreciate ya' watching out for me - for whatever reason Blondie here thought you needed to. You did a good job of keeping me in line."

When the door had closed behind him, Hutch shook his head at the now more subdued Starsky.

"Oh Starsky – the poor kid. He was put here by me because I asked for you to be covered – outside and in here."

"Why the hell for? Calvetti's smashed up good and laid up in another hospital – I got that much out of the kid. Don't look at me like that – its not top secret information. I already knew you creamed him remember? By the way your brow needs a suture, that strip you've got plastered on it ain't gonna do the trick."

Hutch swiped at it absently and felt the fresh blood still oozing. He snatched at a tissue and pressed it hard against the gash.

"Yeah – I know. Maybe later. Not now. You're the one in the bed so stop giving me orders."

"Well someone damn well has to. Busted hand, busted eye – dead on your feet."

"Well, you've got that bit right – let me sit down – I want to hear how you're feeling?"

"Yeah I suggest you sit down Hutch before you damn well fall down. Look at you! How long since you've shut your eyes? How long since you've slept for more than an hour? You look like complete and utter shit."

"Hey - I had a shower when I left here earlier – shower and changed. So I'm a bit tired – I'll catch up now I've – now I know you're going to be OK. "

"Now you've what? You were gonna say – "now I've –"…what? Done what Hutch?"

Hutch had no intention of disclosing anything about what had gone on with Marcus to Starsky – or so he had thought. He just hadn't expected to find him so on top of his game with his thought processes given that only hours ago he had been so out of it.

"I asked you how you're feeling Starsky? Pain levels? How's the pain meds – I hope you're not trying to beat this recovery without the proper amount of pain relief."

"Ha! Says Hutchinson who excels at avoiding pain medication."

"Starsky please…"

"Alright, alright, don't nag me about the pain Hutch – its ok. I just want to wake up a bit more – every time I come to, I get like ten minutes and then I'm out like a light again. I want to stay with it a bit – so you can give me the picture of what happened and what is happening."

"Nothings happening that you need to worry about. Just the usual shit that goes with tying up the loose ends to a case – except this is a case that involves you and so its kept me busy and – and uptight. I'll stay uptight till its all sealed up and Calvetti is behind bars. But that's for me to take care of Starsky – not you. Your job is to lie there, get taken care of and get well. You're not missing out on anything that you need to know about. When you're fully recovered, I'll give you the full story from my side – just like I'll expect the full story from yours – as hard as I know that will be for you buddy. But not now. Now – you are the patient and I am the cop."

Starsky glowered at him, suspicion and doubt on his heavily bruised face.

"So I wake up proper this last time – you're not here but you've set me up with some beady-eyed minder. What gives Hutch? The uniform in here, the plainsclothes outside? Why the heavy duty police protection? "

"Starsky! For God's Sake! Nothing gives. You know that I would worry about you being here in hospital when I have to leave to go into the station to close up the case and file reports and stuff. When I left you were barely conscious – I don't like leaving you like that unattended with only nursing staff to check on you."

"But I'm in hospital Hutch – where patients usually only have nurses to check on them. Calvetti is not here – and I 'm glad you made sure of that – glad you put him somewhere else. But I'm safe now – no need for you to worry OK?"

He winced as he moved and tried to shuffle about to find a better position.

"Starsky you need some more medication – I can tell. Don't think I can't read you like a book. Don't think you fooled me with your tough man act in front of the cop either. That shit doesn't wash with me."

"Yeah well – felt – felt better I guess. Just so tired and –"

"And in pain. Lots of pain. I'm buzzing her."

"Shit! Don't want to go to sleep again Hutch. Hate it when I sleep. And I get the feeling that there's more you need to tell me and you're not – and because I still feel so sleepy I can't think straight enough or long enough to work it out."

"All you need to work out is how to rest up and get better – better for me because I can tell you Starsky, I need to see you well and walking around again, whole and in one piece. When I found you in that room – and before that – before when I didn't know what had happened to you or what he'd done to you – I was going through pure hell buddy. It was a living hell."

"Hey – it's OK Hutch. It OK. Don't get upset again. I can tell you're at your end with all of this worry – so OK – push that damn buzzer will you. Bring on some more dope because you're right. My fucking chest and head are on fire."

Hutch shook his head while pushing hard at the buzzer.

"God you are one stubborn pain in the ass. I should have buzzed her as soon as I came in and not got sidetracked with your little tantrum routine."

Ten minutes later when the nurse had withdrawn from the room, Hutch had Starsky settled down again, the pain relief coursing through his veins and already working its magic. He was relieved to see the pinched lips on his partner's face relaxing into a softer repose. Starsky's hand that had gripped so hard at his own only minutes before was starting to relax its desperate hold, the fingers falling lax and loose inside of Hutch's big palm.

"There – there. Better? Pain easing some Starsk?"

"Yep – yeah ….ya' right …pain is …shit. But hate sleep…scared I'll wake up and …be back there Hutch. Scared that this is all….just dream too."

"No its not. No dream. I'm sitting here, with my busted eye and all, looking at you. And, I tell you what buddy. I am so freakin' tired myself, I'm going to stretch out in this chair right beside you and have a good sleep too. I figure I won't even know I'm in a chair. So when you wake – just look over and see me – sitting here sleeping too and you'll know straight away it's real."

He squeezed the relaxed hand one more time for good measure and laid his bandaged hand on the side of the bruised face, feeling the eyes beneath his fingers finally closing shut.

"Then you'll know Starsk – you'll know for sure – the nightmare is over."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH 

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH SH

**Ok readers - We are coming to the end of Only If His Eyes Are Blue. Just to let you know that there is only ONE more remaining chapter for this story.**

**I hope to have the final chapter written and up as soon as possible.**

**What a wonderful audience you have all been. Thank you so much for reading along and enjoying - yet another dark story from me. **

**One day soon, one day, there will be a light one. **

**But in the meantime I still have Part 3 of If I Can't Have You, Then Neither Can He to write, which I will be starting very soon.**

**XXKerry**


	29. Chapter 29

**Only If His Eyes Are Blue**

**Chapter 29**

* * *

"Hey Ken, haven't seen much of you over the past week or so – I've had my head stuck in that damn case Dobey loaned me out to - the one with Vice."

Bradshaw pulled a chair up and placed his coffee down on the empty desk across from Hutch's. His eyes swept over the clean and uncluttered work surface that hinted at it's absent owner. He took another moment to assess his colleague's face.

"Any idea when you'll have your partner back on deck with you? How's his recuperation going?"

"Oh you know what he's like Tony – it's Starsky we're talking about here. It's going. He wanted to be back last week of course and he's driving me up the wall with his whining and bitching…and that's not saying anything about his whining and bitching about having to have some deep and meaningfuls with the departmental shrink."

Hutch plastered on what he hoped passed for a deadpan smile. However Bradshaw, who'd been around him enough during the ordeal and in the days since Starsky's discharge from hospital, wasn't buying the nonchalance Hutch was trying to feign.

"So you're obviously still worried about him. Do you think he's going to get there?"

"Again – it's Starsky we're talking about. Stubborn and strong. Yeah he'll get there."

Hutch looked into the middle distance and repeated.

"He's getting there."

The strained expression on Hutch's face and his attempt to convince himself of his partner's progress told the other man all he wanted to know. The road back to "normality" was not going to be a smooth transition for either of these two partners.

"And Calvetti? Any further news on his arraignment?"

"Not that I've heard – but you know the damn system? It could be another week before we get the date and then God knows how long before the trial. But at least he's sitting tight in his concrete box – and with no hope of bail he'll be starting to feel the pressure by now. Of course he's lined himself up some hot shot lawyer from up north – one who loves the limelight so when the trial does commence its going to be splashed about all over the media. That part has me more than worried – it's going to be hard enough as it is for Starsky settling back into life after what he's been through without having to see that shit splashed across the papers."

"Deal with that when it comes Ken. Once the trial does start he'll be back at work and busy enough with busting his ass on the job to take his mind off it."

"Trouble is – Starsky will be in it front and center. He'll just be getting back on his feet and then all the legal drama will start. "

"Hey…just be damn pleased that we have the asshole pinned down and behind bars awaiting trial with Starsky at home moping about his medical restrictions. It could have ended so…. Could have ended so badly. Well, I'm just happy that you got the bastard Ken, and that Starsky is OK."

"Yeah, you're right I guess. Getting back on the job will help him I'm sure. And I've got to keep remembering – he's alive, he's safe and he's OK."

_Except he's not really OK. Not by a long way._

"Anyway – I was just about to call it a day and head home to check on him. Want to tag along for a beer – he might be pleased with some new company? I know he's damn sick of me lecturing him about following the Doc's orders and getting enough rest."

"Nah – any other time, but I really think I'll leave the two of you sort yourselves out in private. Plenty of time to catch up with him once he's back at work. I think he probably still needs the space."

Hutch was silently grateful to Bradshaw for his sensitive judgment. Hutch had a mental picture of him fronting up to Starsky's after work with Tony Bradshaw in tow – and despite everything the other officer had done for them both during the whole terrible time, Hutch knew that Starsky would not cope well with an unannounced visitor from the Department. Truth was he didn't really think Starsky would want to socialize with anyone else for a while yet and for the most part he remained moody and quick to flare since he'd gotten home from hospital.

The extreme experience had left him strung out and brittle and Hutch preferred to get his partner through this bad patch himself without outside "help".

"Besides, " Bradshaw cracked his neck to the side, "I have a pile of damn paperwork that I need to tackle before I head for home. But hey – give that impatient patient my best and tell him we're all thinking of him back here at the coal face. And – hey – I'm glad to see you looking better yourself. "

He stood to take his leave, punching Hutch lightly on the shoulder as he turned away. As he made his exit back out the of the squad room doors he passed one of the duty officers from the front desk, who was coming in from the outside corridor.

She smiled at Hutch as she walked over to his desk, a small parcel in her hands.

"Wasn't sure whether you were still here so I was just going to put this on your desk. This got delivered at my front desk a few minutes ago – addressed to you. There's no sender details on the parcel so – you ok with this or you prefer I take it out and get it checked out first?"

Hutch picked it up – a very small package, slim and light with his name typed in bold print and turned the parcel over. There was nothing on the package to denote anything about its contents or origin.

"Who delivered it?"

"Truth be known – I have no idea. It was just sitting there when I returned from doing a memo run. That's often the case though – things get left there a lot when the desk is unattended."

"OK, Thanks. But if you get any follow up call about it or anything can you let me know? Maybe the sender will check in to see if I got it."

Absently he slid his thumb under the parcel's edge and levered it open. A thin box slipped out onto his palm. He hesitated a moment before lifting the lid on the nondescript box. There was no real reason to be wary of the small package, but for so long it seemed, his guard had been up and his defences on hyper - alert. Inside, secured on either end with a small pin was what looked to be a high-grade silver necklace. Releasing the pins he lifted it and felt the sturdiness of the metal links as they draped over his fingers. The fluorescent light from above his desk picked out the trinkets dangling from its center.

And he knew straight away.

His senses had been giving him the correct message about feeling wary about the package.

Two small charms - he supposed that is what one would call them.

One was placed behind the other so that the two small adornments overlaid each other. The slightly larger of the two trinkets was a perfectly shaped silver star with a glittering center. Laying over it and smaller so that the star was visible beneath, sat a small silver horse atop of which sat an armored knight, his battle dress distinctively white.

A star and a white knight, superimposed together, bound together.

Hutch let the necklace slide back into its box and sank into his chair.

Did the symbolism of the necklace mean that Marcus was bowing out of their lives for what was left of his? Was this his parting gift to them? His legacy? Or, did it mean the opposite? Was he once more insinuating himself back into their lives?

Opening his lower desk drawer Hutch carefully placed the re-boxed necklace into the furthest dark corner of the drawer beneath some documents. He slid the drawer closed slowly and continued to look at the drawer as he pondered.

He was driving straight to Starsky's and he would not take the offending piece of Marcus anywhere near Starsky or his home.

Tonight he would think on it. Think on what it could mean – might not mean. But either way he knew that there was little to be done about the gift and its implied message to him. There was no proof whatsoever that the cultist had sent it, no proof and no real intention of harm.

It was of course just another little one of Marcus' games.

There had to be a point he thought, where he made the decision not to let Marcus's games matter so much to him. The spectre of Simon Marcus had to matter less to him or he would not be free to get on with his life and to help Starsky to get on with his.

A charm necklace was not going to ruin his life – he wasn't go to let it.

Jacket and keys in his hands he strode more purposefully to the door.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Barely inside Starsky's apartment Hutch could tell that his partner was still in the black mood he was in when had Hutch had dropped in there on his way to work that morning. His partner's mood was not getting any lighter with the dressing down Hutch had delivered him when he'd pushed in through the front door a few minutes earlier. He wondered fleetingly if Marcus might renounce his role as savior of Polaris if he could see him now and sense his feelings toward his partner at this very moment. His intentions toward the sullen, closed face man who watched him with barely contained resentment had little to do with protection and more to do with outright anger.

As he glared down at Starsky who glared back at him with equal ferocity he could barely suppress the vivid mental imagery of strangling him with his own bare hands.

"Are you trying to piss me off on purpose or are you just plain fucking stupid Starsky?"

"Maybe it's me who should be asking you that question! I've had a gut full of your nagging and haughty behaviour the past week and I'm over it. This is my fucking house Hutch – in case you haven't noticed – and I don't ask you to drop in here at every waking moment to freaking annoy me with your crap. Why are you here anyway? You've put in a long day and already done your house call this morning – so just go home will ya? I'm not in the mood for anymore of this regimental shit."

"Don't try and divert me from the issue here."

" I'm not divertin' nothing! And there is no issue as you call it- except in your head. If I want to drive around in my damn car and if I want to take a walk along the beach I can damn well do it! I don't even know how you know I left the freaking apartment anyway. You come slamming in here with your heavy attitude, demanding to know about my activities, where I've been – how the hell do you even know that I've left this God forsaken couch that I've been chained to for the past two weeks? "

"Because you dumbass – I am a detective and you are too, but obviously you're losing your edge because you didn't realize that you left your car out front with a blazingly warm engine which means you haven't been long home –and which means that you've been gone for probably hours and exhausted yourself by the look of you. Did it not occur to you that you could have fallen down or become too weak to walk any further and be stuck out on some desolate beach somewhere in the dark and the cold? You just don't think Starsky and it really really drives me insane the way you do these stupid things. "

"Losing my edge? Losing my edge? Of course I'm losing my fucking edge! Captive in this apartment and forced to do nothin' but look at myself in the mirror and see what I've become – what that freak did to me …"

Hutch closed his eyes.

"Shit – look I didn't mean it that way…."

But Starsky thundered over the top of the fledgling apology.

"Jesus Hutch- ain't they got enough for you to do down at the station that you've got to come to my place and practice your detecting on me? Why the shit would you run your hands over my bonnet anyway? Jesus! You are too much. Next you'll be looking at the color of my shit to see whether I've had those damn terrible iron tablets I'm supposed to be shovin' down my throat, and countin' the pills in the bottle to check whether I had the antibiotics. Maybe you should just get a life – a real life – other than worrying about mine."

"You Pal must still be banged up badly inside that skull of yours. Either that or you're just being an out and out bastard right now. Because I'm fairly sure that you and I are both clear on one thing. My life is all about worrying about your life and visa versa. So – stay fucking angry and belligerent with me – I really don't care. Be a complete bastard too – I don't care. But just don't sit there and tell me to get a life when you know full well that my life is here – right here – beside you. And like it or not, and same for me, for I sure as hell don't like you too much at the moment either - you're stuck with me."

"I don't have to be. I'm sick and tired of sitting here inside these four walls when there is no reason that I can't get back into life. There is no reason that I can't be back at work, driving my car, walking around, getting on with life and – and –"

He wound down, the thunderous face settling into a more resigned sadness and the his body sagging with defeated exhaustion.

Hutch too felt the last of his fight leach out of his poised for fight body and he stopped his incessant pacing about the room, brought his jabbing finger down by his side and remained still.

"And? And what? What are you fighting here Starsky? What is it that you want back that you aren't going to get if you just allow yourself to fully recover and let me help you to recover?"

"I just want things back to normal – faster than they're happenin'. I just want …I just thought that if I got out of the here – this hemmed in space and went somewhere by myself I might – ah shit!"

Hutch saw Starsky's shaking hands that twisted at the rings on his smaller fingers before Starsky looked down to see them himself. He watched with dismay as Starsky clenched his hands together trying to quell the tremors.

"Starsky?" Hutch was kneeling before him now, taking the two quivering hands in his own and holding them firm.

"What would you find if you went outside by yourself? What are you wanting to find?"

Starsky had closed his eyes and was shaking his head, lips clenched tight as though biting back what he needed to say to his friend but wouldn't allow himself to articulate.

Hutch merely waited.

"Courage. Courage to fight down the fear. I don't know how it's going to leave me this time Hutch. It follows me around all day – it hangs in the air and drapes itself all over me. I feel like its gonna' suffocate me and I can't breathe or push it away. The closed in space of this apartment – even my own home Hutch – it is like that room with the cameras. It's all around me and waiting to come in and get me again. I'm trapped by it and I feel like I'm just waiting for the moment when it's going to come down on top of me and choke the air out of me. I – I don't feel like I know where to find the courage anymore to fight it. I thought if I went out into the open spaces like a beach, the fear would leave me alone…..but even there it didn't Hutch. Even there it followed me and walked beside me. And I did – you're right Hutch – I did - I walked for more than two hours and yeah – it nearly killed me to do it – my damn side and my chest – but it was still there at the end anyway. Oh God Hutch I can't shake it off – what if I can't ever shake it off again?"

"Oh Starsk. Why didn't you tell me this before now? Why do you always do this to yourself? Keep it all inside when I want to share your pain and your fears and be there for you to help you through it? You know by now that you can't push me away with your anger – but you still do this to me. You still shut me out because you try to do it on your own."

"Because you can't help me with this stuff Hutch. It was bad enough after Marcus. I put you through hell worrying and fretting about what had gone on with me being taken by those goons – and I thought I did ok getting back on top of life pretty quickly after that. But you kept on worrying and you kept on watching in case he was around again – lurking in the background. And then? Then I went and let myself – let my stupid fucking self be taken down again by some crazy son of bitch – and put you through all of this shit a second time. Worse than with Marcus even. And look at me – I'm a mess now and it shouldn't be your job to have to make it better. I feel like I'm putting you through as much hell as I'm going through and you won't go away and stop getting hurt by it. I have to get through this – without – without dragging you down with me again Hutch. But you pig headed idiot – you just won't go away and leave me."

"You've got that part right at least. Only that part. You never asked for all of this sick shit to happen to you Starsky. It should not have happened to you – not the first time and by Christ not the second time. But it's happened – I don't know why – but it has. You're alive. You could have so easily be killed. Alive but messed up a lot I know. So now we begin to get through it – together."

"But that's the problem with you partner. You make my suffering your suffering. When I came to my senses enough in hospital to see you, really see and listen to you, I knew it was happening all over again. Don't think I haven't pieced it together already from what I heard from Huggy and Dobey and Bradshaw – let alone about what I know about you more than anyone would know about you. You blame yourself as usual – you've tried to take all of my pain on yourself. Well you can't Hutch. Not this time. No more. This time I have to ride this road myself. I know you take on guilt and concern Hutch – I can't stop you from doin' that – even if I try my damnedest. But you can't absorb my fear. You can't take away what Calvetti made me feel, what being in that room made me feel, no matter how hard you try – so please – please just back away and let me get through this alone."

"Oh Starsk that is such a pointless demand to make of me. You should know by now not to even ask it – and I'm not so sure why you are asking it of me. Is it a test? To see how hard you have to push before I'll walk out the door? "

Starsky simply looked beaten.

""I don't even know the answer myself Hutch. It's just some inner need to do this myself – to get out to the other side – without dragging you along beside me. Calvetti did win you know? I told him he didn't – when I thought I was managing to survive what he did to me. I bet you did too didn't you Hutch? When you beat him with your fists and broke open his face – I bet you thought you were trying to prove to him that he didn't win. But he did Hutch. He did. Me? This? How I'm left feeling now? Here's the evidence. I'm the evidence. He broke me down to the point where I don't need or want anything but to be alone. Calvetti won and I lost."

"You really think that's true? That you want to be alone? Do you? "

The lost look on Starsky's face was all it took to make Hutch move closer and do what was the most natural thing in the world for him to do. No words now. Just actions.

Hutch opened his arms and Starsky unthinkingly fell toward their wide spanned comfort – letting the arms fold over him, the pressure pull him in, the warmth infuse him. Hutch settled his head on the mass of curls and he felt Starsky's quick distressed breaths on his open neck.

A long time passed before Hutch spoke quietly but firmly as he maintained the hold on his partner and Starsky showed no inclination to pull away.

"You're not alone Starsk and you don't want to be alone. He didn't win. You did. We did."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Three days later and the weekend was waiting for him beyond the squad room doors. He was rostered off and in a cop's world that was as good as a possibility that he was going to get at having some much-needed down time. Assuming he didn't get called back in which of course was always on the cards; but Hutch was hoping that the phone would not ring until he had his and Starsky's duffle bags in the bag of the Torino and had hit the road for the small northern beach area they had planned to explore. Once he was out of the city he was a free man until Monday morning - also the day that Starsky had designated at his return to light duty day.

So the weekend was important - a delineation, a hiatus – a last ditch effort to help his partner take some more steps toward emotional healing, now that at least physically he was stronger and healing well from his surgery and the prolonged and repetitive assault on is body. It was a time for the two of them to be together away from the stress of Hutch's ongoing duty commitments, and to have the time, space and mental energy to talk about the heaviness that Hutch knew still weighed heavily on his friend's mind.

Though he was a hell of a lot better since the evening when the two of them had come head to head and they both felt as though they were getting back to solid ground in their partnership and friendship.

Yes – things were a hell of a lot better and he smiled lightly as he pushed away files, scrabbled together memos and jotted notes to himself and threw pens and pencils in drawers. He stopped short when a partly completed report he was trying to ram into his bottom drawer caught the edge of the box. The box containing the silver chain with its knight and star.

It served no purpose to hold onto the necklace. It was not as though he could prove who sent it or why, or even if sending someone a gift was a crime in itself. Even if that person who sent the gift was meant to be locked away in high security prison. All it served was to leave a bitter taste in his mouth and all it proved was that Marcus could still get to him – even from a distance. Get deep into his head and mess around with his security.

Was he superstitious about throwing it away? Discarding a symbol that was meant to represent his protection and guardianship of Starsky?

It happened while he was holding the slim box the slim box in his hand and staring at the glittering star and the shining white knight. He didn't think he believed in prophetic moments. He hadn't thought he had – but then later – much later when the shock of it all had worn off, perhaps that moment was one of the closest he had ever gotten to a prophetic experience. It was while he was holding that necklace, holding all that embodied what Marcus had brought into his Starsky's lives when he received the news from Dobey.

So captivated by the symbolism of the glittering charms he barely heard his Captain approach him.

Dobey had come and stood quietly beside him, as quiet as a big man who was breathing hard and sweating with the gravity of the news he had to deliver could actually be.

"Hutch?"

Not Hutchinson, but his familiar name and noting it drew Hutch's attention to his superior.

"Sorry – yeah Captain – in a daze. You wanted me for something?"

He stuffed the box and its glittering symbolism back in the drawer. It was not something he wanted to go into with this Captain right now. But Dobey barely seemed to register his quick move to conceal the item.

"You still heading off for the weekend with your partner? Getting out of the city – up to the beach you said didn't you?"

"Yeah that's right. Is there a problem?"

_Oh of course! Don't say it. Don't throw me an extra shift._

"I think you need to go – clear out of town for a couple of days. Make sure you keep away from televisions and radios – make sure you get Starsky some real distance from all of this – this place – this city. "

"Cap'n?"

So, not an extra shift then. There was more to the tentative _"Hutch?" _then the beginnings of coercion.

"Just got the word about ten minutes ago. Calvetti's dead. Few hours ago. Found in the shower block – he'd not long finished his early afternoon supervised exercise time. Died from two knife wounds – one to the chest and the other in the gut - bled out before anyone found him."

Hutch knew there was something else – he waited for Dobey to give it to him.

"Something else. His was naked – his prison clothes had been removed. First respondent on the scene recorded that someone had given him a present on his deathbed. All he was wearing was a necklace. "

There it was. Hutch not in the least surprised when he heard it. Prophetic moment? Perhaps. He stared down at the bottom drawer of his desk.

"A necklace?"

"Silver chain with a star."

"I see. Stabbed in the chest and gut with a necklace bearing a star?"

Dobey huffed out a breath. He could see the deadened look on his Detective's face – he could see what the news meant to him.

"I guess we should be lucky they've given that much background on the case – the Detective assigned to the case figured we'd want the main details."

"Yeah – I guess we should. Considerate of them."

"Hutch –"

"Look it's already going on for five. If I want to pick up Starsk and be on the road before nightfall I should leave now."

"That's it? All you have to say?"

"What's to say? Calvetti's been done over. Someone in the rat hole already had him marked or – he's pissed someone off big time in the short time he's been place inside."

"He's in a different prison altogether."

"Different prison? You think for one moment that matters to someone like him? With his connections? With his tentacles and his sick worshippers?"

"Whatever you decide to do about it – sit on it for this weekend Hutch. Just think on it. "

"What's to think on? It's done. I saved Starsky for him – he just finished the job. He's in for death anyway – and you know there won't be any proof. A star necklace? Christ!"

"We'll talk again on Monday. Take the weekend. This isn't going anywhere. You don't even know about any of this till Monday morning OK?"

"Sure – I'll take the weekend. A weekend, which has suddenly just got a whole lot more, complicated for me. How am I going to sell this all to Starsky without him knowing what has gone down behind his back. "

"There's good and there's bad among that news Hutch."

"Oh yeah sure – it will be a great opening to what was meant to be a relaxing weekend away for him. How should I put it to him Cap'n? The good news Starsky is that the Motherfucker Calvetti is dead – murdered in a very similar way to how Calvetti injured you. The other news – sick in its own way and it does not bode nothing well for your future, is that another one of your abductors arranged to have him taken out."

"Hutch, all we know so far is that Calvetti is dead. That is all. Now go – get out of here before the phone starts ringing. Once this shit hits the grapevine everyone will want to talk to you and Bradshaw – being as you were the two who collared him."

Dobey watched Hutch bend down, open the bottom drawer of his desk that he had only just closed. He retrieved the small box that Dobey had seen in his hands before.

Dobey didn't ask what the box was about or why it brought the look to Hutch's face that it did. Instead he simply turned and walked back to his office door.

Hutch shoved the box in his jacket pocket. He knew now that he would show it to Starsky. He had a right to know and keeping this from him, keeping what had gone with Marcus and himself was no longer a viable option.

Perhaps that they would throw the necklace away together.

So Hutch took his shook up inner world and walked out through the door toward the waiting weekend beyond.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

**_Three weeks later:_**

**_Back Entrance Huggy's Bar_**

* * *

"Well looky here – if it ain't the city's two number one fearless detectives pulling up at my lowly establishment in their deceptively understated, bright red po-leece car."

Hutch climbed out of the passenger seat and stretched his back out.

"Huggy there are more than a few problems with that statement."

"And which parts of my statement are giving you problems Detective Hutchinson?"

"Well how can we be the city's two, number one detectives? "

"Hutch, Huggy meant me – I'm the city's number one detective – he was trying to be fair by stretching it to include you."

Hutch ignored his partner's jibe.

"And, secondly - Starsky's car is not what could be described - not by a long stretch of the imagination - as 'deceptively understated'."

Huggy blew out a ring of smoke as he waved his cigarette about.

"Oh excuse me! Who appointed you conversation editor? Or should I more rightly say, if I am allowed to say anything in your esteemed presence – conversation killer?"

"Huggy – let Hutch have his little play in his sandbox. It's the way he gets his deepest satisfaction – correcting other people's words and grammar. Sad I know – but it's all you have ain't it Hutch? When you're constantly overshadowed by a better looking, faster, stronger, more stylish partner, with a hotter car, you have to fall back on something to boost your ego don't you?"

Huggy coughed on the last of his cigarette as he ground the butt out on the oil stained concrete.

"Sure sounds to me like you two are back in your groove. So is this a pleasure visit that brings you down this alleyway? You two stopped by my bar for a drink or for some high brow conversation?"

"I think we've had enough of high brow conversation for now from Hutch. Me? I'm here for a much - needed cold beer and whatever is on your special board tonight that is greasy, hot and full of salt." Starsky patted his lean gut. "This incredibly hard muscular physique is in need of another five or so pounds to restore my body to its optimum peak and former glory."

Hutch chuckled and smacked his hand lightly over the back of Starsky's head.

"Well Huggy I guess that means we're here to eat and socialise."

"What? No lecture forthcoming from you? What's wrong with you Hutch? No monologue on how I'll be dead in five years time with cholesterol overload? No – why don't you try some steamed fish or steamed broccoli or steamed anything else you can think of that has no flavor and no taste?"

"Nope. Not tonight. Tonight you can eat what your five-pound underweight body chooses to eat. What do you say Hug? Have you got what Starsky wants? Fat, sugar, grease and salt in equal abundance? "

But Huggy was distracted, looking beyond the two of them – his attention fixed behind their heads.

They both turned simultaneously to see what had drawn his eye.

The three men watched as she moved closer to them and the Torino, the fading early evening light picking out her upmarket clothes and her carefully made up attractive face. Middle aged and well presented she hardly seemed like one of Huggy's usual patrons.

Hutch looked back up the lane way as though trying to figure out from where the woman might have suddenly materialized.

She spoke before he had a chance to wonder further. Her voice matched her appearance – a smooth tone with no rough edges – with something extra thrown in. More than a hint of beguilement.

"Hi there guys. Look, I hope I'm not being rude here or interrupting anything – but I really just wanted to ask you something about this car – or rather to ask whoever is its owner."

"Sure – ah – I own her." Starsky conjured up his best lop-sided smile as he leaned in to rest his hip on the side of the Torino.

"Now how did I guess you would be the owner? You know you really do match the look of this car. Has anyone every told you that?"

If she noticed Hutch's double-take and eye-roll it didn't halt her stride.

Her smoky eyes swept over Starsky, hardly discreet with where her gaze lingered – resting a moment on his denim clad legs and pelvis before coming back up to smile suggestively at his dark blue eyes.

Not yet back up to par with his own flirtatious repertoire, Starsky squirmed just a little under her heavy-handed scrutiny. He tried hard not to look at Hutch who was tensing noticeably beside him – Starsky could almost see hackles rising and teeth baring.

"I wanted to ask you about the color, the paint work you have had done to it…."

Hutch made an unmistakable gasping sound, Huggy coughed loudly and Starsky paled at the words.

The woman continued to eye off Starsky, oblivious to the punch her query had just delivered to the live tableau.

Starsky couldn't be sure who moved first. Was it Hutch who looked as though he was ready to lunge at the woman, or was it Huggy who saw Hutch's look and intercepted before the worst could happen?

Suddenly Huggy had the woman by the arm, swinging her around and waving extravagantly at the grimy façade behind them.

"Do you realize that you are standing behind one of the finest bars in this fair city, owned by none other than yours personally? Forget about this big hunk of garish metal and let me take you inside for a drink on the house?"

"Oh OK – wonderful idea. We can all have a drink and I can ask about the –"

"These guys were just heading off weren't you?"

Starsky looked uncertain. "But my dinner special….?"

Hutch looked very certain. "Starsky just get in the car now will you? You can get dinner someplace else."

The woman looked longingly at Starsky's body but Huggy had her in a man hold and was pulling her toward the rear entrance. She struggled a little as she looked back at the car.

"But wait! I didn't get to hear about the color of the car – I really would love to know where I could get a similar job done. "

Her voice could be heard as he manhandled her away – a little plaintive as she again turned back and gave Starsky one last long seductive look.

As Hutch pushed Starsky back toward the driver's door with almost insistent force, they both heard their friend's quick response.

Even Hutch had to smile at Huggy's wisdom.

"Lady – take it from me. There is _no way_ you want to have a car that color. It's pure danger. It brings nothing but trouble – just like it's owner. Trouble with a capital T. "

* * *

**The End**

* * *

Thank you all so much for your ongoing interest in this story and your wonderful reviews! It's been a long journey together.

Special thanks to Tabs - your idea is responsible for this epic saga and as always, to Brook for your unflagging support and unquenchable thirst for ways to hurt poor Starsky and for Hutch to exact his revenge.

Kerry


End file.
